


Stride of Three

by MajesticalJeff



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, BROTP Beverly and Will, Childhood Stories, Creole French, Dates, Disabilities, Disable!Will, Drinking, Everything is Beautiful, Ex Surgeon AND psychiatrist Hannibal, Ex-Military Sergeant Will, Ex-Professional Swimmer and Skater Hannibal, First Date, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Good Person Hannibal, Happy Ending, Heavy flirting, L'Escalier Casse-Cou, La Fudgerie, Le Petit Cochon Dingue, Lower Quebec, M/M, More tags to be added, Mutual Attraction, Olympic Gold Medalist Hannibal, Paparazzi, Parc des Champs-de-Bataille, Pining, Quebec city sight seeing, Québec, Rutting, Sarcasm, Secrets, Sex, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, Tabloids, Teacher Will, The Promenade des Gouverneurs, Therapy Dog Winston, Vieux-Port, bad relationships, celebrity hannibal, foster kid Will, hand holding, illegal substances, large inheritance, long walks, lying, mentions of cheating, nobody is bleeding to death, prosthetic, romantic, slowish? burn, smut later, so pretty omfg, surprise meeting, unwarranted arm twisting, vacationing, yeah bet u dont see that tag often
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticalJeff/pseuds/MajesticalJeff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It is no trouble. I must admit I have been significantly lonely as of late, so this was a particularly convenient run-in.”</p><p>“Do you usually consider flirtatious banter over eggs and tomatoes with a strange man in the middle of Quebec City a ‘convenient run-in’?” Will chirps as they stop in the doorway, facing one-another as Will pushes his sunglasses back up his nose.</p><p>Hannibal laughs and something flickers in his gaze as he responds with no hesitation, sly and smooth, “Well, the man does not have to remain strange if he does not wish to.” </p><p>***<br/>Au prompt; I met you once and we flirted a bit, and now i wake up to find pictures of us plastered all over the internet and the newspapers speculating we're a couple and what do you MEAN you're a famous celebrity??? Unbeta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tomatoes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Reader, keeping this simple. If you've read my stuff before you know i tend to write more depressing, "everyone dies" scenarios or hardcore fluff, so this is me attempting to write something that has a little bit of both. 
> 
> If you've never been to Quebec city, you're going to learn quite a bit from this story and it's upcoming chapter. it's a gorgeous place and i feel it was the right place for this set. Enjoy! 
> 
> UNBETA'D

 

_Eggs, bacon, cheese._

The sun is shining, sweat trickling down the spines of all who are exposed to it as well as the heady humidity, making the air sticky and hot so any bared skin is mercilessly baked by the sun, the jumbling groups only seeming to make it worse

If you were to look at the hundreds of people outside that day in this sense, then Will Graham would be like any other in the whooping crowds; shirts and pants forgone for lighter wares as they desperately drank from cool bottles, fighting the sweat that tried to leak into their eyes as people bumped and bustled around one-another, their low hum of conversation acting as a strange, blurry sort of comfort in the burning humidity.

 _Milk. Don’t forget the milk._ Will reminded himself blearily after nearly having stepped on child holding a small carton as he approached the corner market. Taking solace in this one small thing he felt most familiar with, he comfortably placed a hand into the edge of a chiseled grey stone building, beneath his palm was rough and hot, but no less of a reassurance. Close enough to his hotel that Will would not need to brace the heat and people for so long, this small shop was like a beacon of hope through the must that was forming in front of his hazy eyes.

Despite the atrocious summer weather, Will _did_ greatly enjoyed Quebec- the smells, the colors, and most of all the language even, if it was rather different then the Creole French that glued to his tongue much like sap, it was still a language of beauty and extreme simplicity, making this the idea vacation spot.

What _didn’t_ make it ideal, other than the heat, was the large quantities of _people,_ swarming from every angle, filling every nook and cranny with their unmistakable presence; families, honeymooners, couples, and tourists alike. Will had lost count of the amount of times he’d been pushed, bumped, or even slammed into, leaving an undesirable taste of anxiety in his mouth that had kept him in spacey parks and museums – or even his own hotel room more than once.

Will had avoided another one of the uncomfortable bump-ins as he ducked into the store, a man with an abnormally large camera for a tourist giving him a cold scowl as he did. Ignoring this, Will instead basked in the scent of _fresh_ hitting his nose. As the bone-dry air conditioning washed over his damp skin, Will slid his sunglasses off his nose and hooked them on his belt. It was all very open, displays of fruits and vegetables stacked on neat and colorful tables while fridges and stand-alone shelves stood towards the back.

 _Eggs, bacon, cheese. And milk._ Will knew his stay would be a while, fully intending to have gotten groceries for himself at one point rather than deal with the frivolous restaurant prices, but he hadn’t expected to have to hike around aimlessly until he was forced to use a GPS. All that was on his mind right now was an egg sandwich, and he didn’t care how he got it.

Giving a friendly raise of hand to the woman behind the cash register who was currently scanning out zucchinis for a depressed looking teenager, Will bypassed the local produce to go deeper into the quaint shop. He already had some rye bread and butter back at his hotel room, but other than that, he was left with nothing but the empty kitchenette in the corner of the room.

There was only one other person at the back of the shop, and upon glance Will realized he had a basket, something he probably should’ve gotten himself. Although now that he took a second to mull on it, he didn’t remember seeing any at the front. Perhaps he didn’t look properly? Frowning, he instead decided that he could handle carrying a few things.

Cheese was relatively easy to find, going for the cheapest one out of habit before pausing to wrinkle his brow in confusion at all the types. Hesitating minutely, he snagged one that was three percent and let the glass door close with a soft thud. Bacon was easier, only one refrigerator over and Will could swear up and down he had never seen so many options before, ranging from organic to full fat. Doing the same as he did with the cheese, he snagged the cheapest pack before moving for the eggs.

It seems variety was in the store’s nature, so egg picking went the same as the previous items, Will’s lips pressed together in irritation as he stared at the different types, grumpily missing the blatancy of America. Without his glasses, he couldn’t discern many details, making him lean in closer then he’d like and squint.

“I would suggest the double yolk.” Nearly dropping everything in his arms, Will straightens to stare at whoever had spoken, recognizing the man with the basket from before just as he leaned past Will for a carton of the very eggs he was suggesting.

Will opened his mouth awkwardly as the man looked up at him from his basket with a smile. He’d been ready to sprout out a quick “thanks” and the man’s suggestion out of respect, but he was suddenly very distracted by his face.

Deeply tanned, a near olive color, his hair was a sandy blonde with a light smattering of grey, hanging softly over his forehead. Sharp cheekbones and deep-set eyes made Will think back to sculptures he’d seen on his recent trips to art galleries, marble smooth and flawless – Although, flawless wasn’t the _perfect_ description; his face also lined and tired despite the youth that seemed to cling to the warm maroon eyes and thin smile.

 “Are you alright?” The man asked, brows arched downwards in concern and Will snapped his mouth shut, a blush climbing his throat as he did. If he’d tried to reply before then, he was sure nothing but an unintelligible sound would come from his throat.

“Sorry. I was _distracted_.” Will said lamely, taking advantage of the man holding the fridge door open still to duck down to snag a six pack of double yolk eggs, only to be more flustered to find the dark eyes still watching him when he straightened.

“Thank you,” He said abruptly, not making any sort of eye contact, as if that could save him from the obvious fluster the other man must’ve already seen written all over his face. “For the suggestion.”

“Much obliged. May I let my curiosity get the best of me and ask what you are making?” The stranger asked, head tilted and seeming genuinely interested, apparently completely oblivious to how much Will would rather eat his own hand then speak any further.

Pushing aside his slightly exaggerated thoughts, Will decided being polite was in his best interest and replied in a tone he hoped was casual but instead came out suspiciously defensive, “Egg sandwich.”

 “Ah,” The still unnamed man hums, and Will is mystified that they are still within the same vicinity with the amount of toxicity and awkwardness rolling off of him right now. “May I make another suggestion then?”

Will swallowed and nodded quickly, purposely keeping his gaze up to maintain a feeling of interest. People liked it when others listened, so Will wasn’t going to make himself appear bored. Especially when he was very interested in a few attributes of the fellow standing across from him.

“Thinly sliced tomato is always a wonderful additive.” The other man offered, taking a large, red tomato from his basket and holding it out to Will, who stared blankly at it for a minute before glancing up to the kind eyes watching him.

Will hesitated before he took what was offered to him with the hand that wasn’t balancing his other purchases, fingers brushing the other man’s as he did, and Will was sure at this rate he’d be redder then the tomato before he left. Running his callouses thumbed over the smooth red skin, Will glanced up to the maroon eyes and spoke without thinking. “Will Graham.”

The other man blinked, his smile spreading wider, delight curling the thin, uneven lips. “Hannibal Lecter.”

The name suited him, Will thought, _undeniably_. But it was almost familiar, something he couldn’t place, and Hannibal watched him with a curious intensity as if he was expecting something. Instead, Will tucked the tomato into the nook of his other arm to offer his free hand - something he rarely did - to _Hannibal_ in a friendly gesture.

At least, that’s what he told himself, really he just wanted to know if those elegant, lengthy fingers felt as dapper as they looked. Which he quickly got an answer to as they slid over his in a firm handshake.

“Do you live in the neighborhood?” Hannibal asked, and Will noted dully he was still holding onto Hannibal’s hand. He reluctantly let go, instead swiping some perspiration off his tanned forehead with knuckles as the man continued unfazed, “I have not seen you around before.”

“Vacationing, actually,” Will said with a crooked smile. “I thought it was obvious from the way I was dressed. Very tourist-y.”

He wasn’t technically wrong, either. Loose fitted jeans and a button down with rolled up sleeves- he’d also taken to leaving it unbuttoned except for the bottom three, something the public generally didn’t seem to mind. Sunglasses had been the first thing he’d bought when landing in Canada. He had also received a white straw hat that was styled suspiciously like a tribly from one Beverly Katz when she heard he was taking a ‘well deserved holiday’. It was a horrendous thing, but he had somehow ended up wearing it twice so far.

Hannibal took a second to appraise him, long enough at least for Will’s face to turn a few darker shades of red before the man laughed aloud and nodded his head. “I suppose you do then, my mistake.”

“And what of you, do you live around here?” Will asked casually in return, tucking his free hand loosely into one of his back pockets and leaning into his hip slightly.

“Alas, no, I am also vacationing.” Hannibal remarked, shaking his head again and dislodging more of what must’ve been previous tame hair. “Why, do _I_ not look the part?”

Will took a second to shamelessly check out the other man in return, biting the inside of his bottom lip as he did. Like himself, Hannibal wore jeans, but they were designer, soft and smooth, much unlike Will’s warehouse durable kind. A white v-neck t-shirt dipped low enough so show the slightest amount of chest hair, the rest hidden under the soft cotton. He paired this all nicely with a pair of simple yet fashionable boots and a brown leather jacket.

“Not as bad as me at least,” Will said, voice dry yet teasing. “Although I do leave big shoes to fill.”

“Undoubtedly.” Hannibal replied, still grinning as they both shared quick eye contact. Suddenly feeling hot under the collar under the intense gaze of Hannibal, Will quickly branched off. “Although I feel there is a more important question when it comes to tourism.”

Hannibal’s brows raised, the attitude between them airy and light as the man cocked his head, leaning in slightly as he asked, “And what is that?”

Will dipped his head down to huff a laugh before leaning in as well, a lopsided grin curling his features. “ _Comment est votre français?_ ”

Hannibal, was least to say, delighted by the molasses thick drawl that stuck to Will’s French. The molasses of a mostly unused Louisiana accent sticks to the curves of his words, something easy to shake in English but not so much in French.

“Pas aussi bien que tu, j'admet.” Hannibal replies, and it’s not as choppy was Will was bracing for. It wasn’t impeccable, but much of that could be blamed on the pre-existing accent that Hannibal had. Still, Will couldn’t help but snort at the other man, who instantly questioned, “That bad?”

“I can assure you I’ve heard worse.” Will says coolly, head cocked and eyes narrowed from the smile spread across his face. Hannibal is smiling in return, the energy and genuine delight he found in Will’s response written plainly on his sharp features.

They’re both staring, and if anyone were to walk into the back of the shop at that very moment they’d probably take one look at the two of them and turn back around, the air between them sizzling with an unidentified heat.

“I – well, I think I should check this stuff out.” Will finally manages to choke out after a few extreme moments of trying to get his b rain to function, and luckily Hannibal hums in agreement, gesturing for Will to take lead, who is all but shaking in his boots. Paying is quick, mostly because Hannibal insists on covering it.

“Seriously, we just met –“ Will tries to argue, but Hannibal smiles once again and insists to repay Will for good conversation. Will, who hadn’t heard anything after being dazzled by the other man’s glorious, well, _face,_ ended up agreeing, watching the man pay in cash before being handed his paper bag.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, the blush on his face painfully obvious as they make their way to the door together. Hannibal hums politely, “It is no trouble. I must admit I have been significantly lonely as of late, so this was a particularly convenient run-in.”

“Do you usually consider flirtatious banter over eggs and tomatoes with a strange man a ‘convenient run-in’?” Will chirps as they stop in the doorway, facing one-another as Will pushes his sunglasses back up his nose.

Hannibal laughs and something flickers in his gaze as he responds hesitantly, “Well, the man does not have to remain strange if he does not wish to.”

Will’s brows raise as his heart jumps, “Are you asking me out?”

“If you’d like to. I think you would appreciate the company as much as I would. Unless I am wrong?” Will is offered a business card from the man’s wallet, and he stares, debating, before taking it and tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll call you?”

“I would hope so.” Hannibal says, and Will snorts, watching the man take the quick three steps back down onto the sidewalk, smiling up at Will. “ _Au Revoir_ , Mr. Graham.”

Will has to stop himself from watching the other man go.

It takes him a minute to realize he forgot the milk.


	2. Soggy Cereal & Crispy Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's closest and arguably only friend Beverly Katz gives him her take on the Hannibal ordeal, prompting a hesitant Will to call him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased with how nicely this was responded too and i'm glad you guys enjoyed it, because lemme tell you, writing this is insanely fun. Anyway, here's another chapter in thanks.
> 
> UBETA'D.

Will is eating some stale cereal he’d picked up in the depressingly lit convenience store attached to the hotel when his computer goes off. Still in bed and groggy, he looks up to the familiar beeping of a Skype call and he's neither shocked nor surprised to see one Beverly Katz's name displayed when he squints – as well as her devotedly creative profile picture of her using a strand of hair to make a mustache with puckered lips.

Sighing in reluctant compliance, Will should’ve taken her more seriously when she’d sworn she’d call him every other day. She’d been quite literal; the times so far had ranged anywhere from two in the morning to four in the afternoon. Although, he was fairly sure that had to do with her newly accepted position in the forensic department of the FBI, something she’d talked his ear off about in the airports William’s Café before he’d left.

Leanly muscled and taller than he was, Beverly was a pretty woman with a button nose and wide grin that would undeniably leave crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes as she aged, and with that came a permanent look of _mischievous;_ the type of ecstatic personality that sees everything with adrenaline but also haring sincerity. She was one of the only people from Will’s past that refused to let him slip away, latching on tightly and refusing to let go.

Balancing his bowl in his lap, he pulls the laptop from where it was charging on the desk beside the bed, sitting it down on his lap where he removes the bowl, and hits the accept button, silently accepting his fate of 20 questions that always came when talking with her.

“Hey hotshot, how you doin’?” The first question arrives as her picture does on the screen, hair messy from sleep and bacon crackling in the background. She’s sitting at her breakfast bar with a coffee, obviously just having woke up as he had.

“I’m alright.” He admits begrudgingly and her eyebrows shoot up immediately. Beverly never beats around the bush, a blessing as much as a cure. Every conversation with her feels like it never started, that Will had just appeared in the middle of it, Beverly, who looks incredulous, immediately begins her interrogation.

“Just _alright_? You’re in _Quebec City_ , you can’t be ‘just alright’.” She says with a bark of laughter. “There must’ve been something exciting – Have you gone and seen the _L'Escalier Casse-Cou_ yet?” The Breakneck Steps, a classic feature of downtown Quebec City and something Will knew he’d eventually get to.

“Not yet, but I thinking about doing it today. Shouldn’t be too crowded.” He said around a spoon of cereal. Beverly nodded in agreement before she continued to go on about how she remembered how hot and packed it’d been when she went during the summer of 2012 – she’d found a lovely bearpaw café near the water where she spent some time doodling in her notebook. All the while Will listened, but also debated to tell her about meeting Hannibal the day before, and how he couldn’t get those dark eyes and thin smile out of his head, how he still kept the business card on the bedside in and the temptation to call the man and –

“I met someone.” He chirps awkwardly, interrupting her mid-sentence. She stares at him unblinkingly, entirely surprised by his sudden words. As it sinks in, a grin spreads across her face. “You what?”

“I met someone. A guy.” Will takes another quit spoonful of cereal, chews, and swallows all too quickly, wanting to finish his sentence before she began her excited flurry, instead he’s left with a awkwardly hoarse voice as he finishes, “Nice guy.”

“Where did you meet this ‘nice guy.” She replies, a sly glimmer in her eyes that begins to reflect in her voice. Will rolls his eyes at her sneaking intentions, sighing begrudgingly and admitting, “Store not far from here. We had a conversation about eggs.”

“The sexy kind I hope, not the cooking kind.”

“Beverly,” He chides, giving her a look that told her to remain serious. She raises her hands in surrender and gestures for him to continue. “The cooking kind. We flirted, he gave me his card and told me to call him.”

“So are you?” She asked, all too excited at the prospect of Will going outside, let alone with another person. Will snorted. “You’re way to energetic for this time in the morning.”

“Shut up and give me the details Graham, this _is_ exciting. Is he from around there or just visiting or …?” She lets the sentence hang, obviously wanting Will to finish it.

“He’s visiting as well.” Will hums, giving in to her insistence under the prospect of getting it over with. “He’s European. Tall, tan. He has a nice smile.”

“You are literally the worst at giving descriptions.” She groans and he grins at her painful curiosity, hands pressed over her face, although she does peek through her fingers at him when she asks, “Did you call him or not?”

“Not yet. I was thinking about doing it today.” Will says hesitantly, and she’s instantly up again, eyes wide and shining. “Do it, you could go to the L'Escalier Casse-Cou together!”

“I’m not sure if walking around in a crowd of people while trying to not sweat through my shirt is exactly the best first date.” Will sighs, and she waves off his excuse easily.

“Wear shorts or something. Bring water. Find a cute little café. Do _something,_ I’m literally begging you. This would be good for you.”

“I can’t wear shorts Beverly, you know that. And besides, what happens when he leaves for home, or _I_ leave? Long distance isn’t exactly easy when you’re a teacher.” Will says, sighing deeply. He knew it would be a bad idea to even think of a possible relationship with the other man. Hell, who even said anything about a relationship anyways?

“Wait, he doesn’t know?” She says, clearly directing her attention to the first part of his statement, the frown pressing far too serious after all her jittery excitement.

“No. I was wearing jeans.” Will replies curtly, jaw clenching involuntarily at the topic of something he’d rather avoid. It always tended to be a deal breaker in any other attempts at relations – even casual lays.

Beverly looks at him, and there’s sympathy in her gaze. “Well, I guess that _may_ be a problem for later, but still, so what if one of you leaves. Who even says it might work out as a relationship, for all you know it could just end up being sex and nothing else.” She sighs, propping her cheek up on her hand. “And if it really is a connection, you’ll sort something out – actually, scratch that, let _him_ sort it out. You kinda suck at these things. No offense.”

“None taken.” Will says, huffing a laugh at her honesty. She was entirely true – for all he knows it could just end up some casual fun then they never see one-another ever again. Something about that stung for a reason he couldn’t explain, but Beverly was likely right.

“Anyway, I got work in a few hours, so you better text me about what’s going on by the end of the day.” She threatens as she stands, not bothering to end the call as she attends to her bacon. Only in a t-shirt and her underwear, Will directly looks away from the screen, rolling his eyes. “You could wear pants you know.”

“Keep it in check Graham.” She jostles back, dumping her food unceremoniously onto a dish before returning to her seat in front of the computer. “Besides, nothing you haven’t seen.

“Nothing I want to see.” He grumbles, and when Beverly raises her brows and takes a bite of bacon he sighs and instead asks, “How is work?

“Not bad. We’ve had some pretty crazy shit come in so far, but most of it is pretty simple and the guy gets caught quick. We did have a bunch of bodies show up with honeycombs in their skulls though.”

“Really?” Will says, wrinkling up his nose. “Sounds like a handful.”

“Not really. Price and Zeller loved it.” Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller were two of the several employees he’d heard of so far. While Zeller was tall with dark hair and eye bags, Price was short and older, all grey hair and lined features. Beverly had joking mentioned she’d thought they were a thing, but it seems she became increasingly more sure that they were the more time she spent around them.

“Of course they would. How’s the strangler case going?” Beverly proceeds to talk to Will for another ten minutes about the bodies they’d had so far, all strangled women in their twenties and then dressed in a white gown and found near or in rivers. So far evidence was slim and the pressure was high.

. “I should let you go then.” Will says, brows raised. “Sounds like hell.”

“Yeah, probably. But you should also call that guy.” She said, entirely serious. Will makes an uncomfortable, cornered noise and she sighs loudly. “C’mon Graham. Give it a go. Let me know the outcome. If all else fails, suck his dick; move on.”

“Beverly!” Will chokes and she gives him a look that says that she regrets nothing she’s said. Shaking his head, he ends the call and pushes his laptop aside and runs a hand through his hair. Like magnets, Will’s eyes find where the business card sits on the table in the small kitchenette.

He sighs and checks the time on his phone. Sixty forty-six. Was it too early? Something about Hannibal seemed like the type to be up early. Sighing deeply, Will stares down into his now soggy cereal and tries to calm his pulse. It shouldn’t be this stressful to call someone, and Will knows this, but he can’t stop the adrenaline rush the comes with it, making him jittery and panicked.

Finally, he stands, placing his bowl in the sick and picking up the card from beside his wallet, worrying it between his fingers. It’s a light beige color, and written in a latte brown cursive was just his name and number. No business, not address, just an email in the bottom corner in a smaller font. It’s painfully simple and seems to reflect the calm appearance of the other man.

Maybe calm would do him well – nobody jabbing in his head or trying to learn everything, wanting to pry up the boards to the truth inside. It always ended badly, so perhaps if Hannibal was as genuine as he seemed, it wouldn’t be so painful this time.

He’s dialing the number into his cell before he knows what he’s doing, and it’s only when the dial tone begins that Will’s pulse spikes fingers tapping against the base of his palm on his free hand.

Three rings, and then a click. Will feels ready to hang up and throw the phone out the window when Hannibal speaks, voice low and slightly ruffled, likely from sleep. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Will.” He says painfully, grimacing as he did. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Not at all.” Hannibal replies, his tone significantly more wakeful now that he knew who it was. “I was not expecting you to call so soon.”

Will’s heart drops as he awkwardly opens his mouth then shuts it. Finally, after a painful moment of silence, Will rushes words up and out of his mouth in a unsteady stumble, “I’m sorry, it was a bad idea. I’ll leave you be now –“

“No, I can assure you it is quite fine.” Hannibal cuts off quickly before Will can ramble having sensing the man’s sudden embarrassment. “It is lovely to hear from you.”

“I was wondering if I could take you up on the company offer.” Will said, swallowing hard and resisting the urge to pace around his hotel room as he did. It was a nice space, comfortable and clean, not the low-class shit he’d been used to his whole life. “Do you know where the L'Escalier Casse-Cou are?”

“Of course.” Hannibal says, and Will can hear the rustling of what must be sheets in the background and swallows awkwardly again at the sudden pressure behind his eyes. “Would you like to meet there?”

“I was thinking that, yes. I haven’t seen the area yet and I figured I’d like some company while doing so.” Quickly becoming more confident in the lack of wavering in his voice, Will quickly adds, “If you’d like.”

“I would enjoy that greatly.” Hannibal replies genuinely, and Will bites his lip as he grins before letting it free. Suddenly feeling exhilarated, Will continues, “How about at ten. We can walk down to the waterfront and grab lunch.”

“Ten o’clock it is then. I will see you then Will.” Hannibal hums, and Will’s legs feel like butter, grinning widely enough that is nearly hurts. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Au revoir.” Hannibal chirps before hanging up, and Will holds the phone to his chest as he heaves out a heavy breath, grinning as his heart flutters fiercely in his chest, exhilaration making him jittery.

“Au revoir.” He hums to himself, completely aware of exactly how ridiculous he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BROTP Beverly and Will is my aesthetic.
> 
> Anyways, i'm going on march break and luckily don't have work or volunteer activities, instead just a whole week home alone (exciting), which means i'm gonna try to get as much writing and fanart making in as a i can, so expect another chapter soon. Until then, au revoir.
> 
> PS, L'Escalier Casse-Cou is a set and beautiful stairs in Quebec City known for being steep as hell but lead to a gorgeous lower area near the water. You'll see more of them next chapter.


	3. Lemon Mint Fudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal go on the romantic date of the lifetime - but Will's day doesn't end so great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait it's just i'm a actual person who has things to do and by that i mean i fucking procrastinate 24/7 so...
> 
> U N B E T A ' D. seriously.

 

By the time Will reaches the L'Escalier Casse-Cou he’s easily drenched. For some horrendous fucking reason, he’d decided upon arrival to not rent a vehicle, that walking would be more scenic and healthy. Instead he was left with sore muscles and an embarrassing amount of panting.

Reaching the first railings without sight of Hannibal, Will took his time to slouch against the red and bronze metals, watching people pass by who seemed much less exhausted then he. The view was incredible, lower Quebec displayed in an array of colors and quaint attributes just past the ridiculous as strangely designed steps.

It is only once his breathing has calmed that he is once again reminded of his anxiety. It is an unfair trade in Will’s opinion, and it leaves a clotted, dusty feeling in his throat. Perhaps it was a poor decision after all, to go out for the day with a man he didn’t know. Maybe he should leave, have lemon gelato and tequila shots in bed till – “Will?”

There’s a lot worse ways to start a date, but once having time to think about it, Will figures that grabbing the man by the wrist  and twisting it behind his back tends to be one of the far more terrible ways. Hannibal had taken him by surprise, reflex and instant paranoia swinging full speed and moving him without thinking. Hannibal, luckily enough, buckled his knees instantly as if he’d knew what to expect and what to do to lighten the impact, raising his free hand in a sign of mercy.

Will only came back into focus when he feels the stares of those around him on his back, only then realizing he was currently holding his _date_ down on his knees in the middle of a highly populated area with an arm twisted behind his back. A burning shock filling him, Will releases Hannibal instantly, stuttering apologies as he did.

Watching with absolute shame and surety to the end of his already very brief relationship with the man, Will watches pensively as Hannibal makes his way back to his feet, although unsteady, he balances off a lot better then Will had seen before.

He expects a punch, yelling, maybe even being spat on before watching the other man storm away, what he wasn’t expecting was the laugh. Hannibal turns to face him, gingerly rubbing his wrist, a small, wry grin curling his lips as he dryly comments, “I’m afraid you’ve caught me off guard. But then you could say the same. I apologize if I startled you.”

Will splutters in disbelief, features knit tight in disbelief. “As you serious?” He questions, voice incredulous and entirely disbeliving. “You’re apologizing to me?”

“I believe that is what I had said, yes.” He’s too calm, and something about it rubs Will the wrong way and almost having him question if this happens often. Instead, he throws his hand up and cough out a dry, deluded laugh. “You’re not even _upset_.”

“I believe that you have your reasons to dislike touch without warning. Although I will remember physical contact is one I shall avoid in the future.”

“Wait, so you’re – not leaving?” Will deadpans, managing to – somehow - become more confused than he was before.

“Why ever would I do that?” Hannibal responds, head tilted as he frowned, looking as if he was in the same predicament of disconcert as Graham. “Yes, it was an unfortunate situation but I am sure something I may do in the future will even the scales.”

They stand, simply staring at one-another, Will in complete awe at the strange and magnificent human that had somehow wandered into his life with a full, overbearingly _diluted_ presence. The temptation to ask if the other man was a real person was incredibly pressing, and if he had not just been holding him in a death grip seconds ago, Will would want to reach out and touch to see if he was even a physical being.

“I’m sorry.” Will says awkwardly, and Hannibal nods his understanding. Urgent to break the terse silence, Will pipes up with a newer, waveringly chipper tone, “There’s a place, down there.” He awkwardly points downwards, towards the lines of shop, cafes, and boutiques. Hannibal’s brows raise in response. “There are many places down there.”

Will, flustered, shakes his head and snorts. “You know what I mean. I looked it up online, I figured it’d be a nice place for lunch. It’s near the waterfront so It’s going to be a hell of a walk.”

“Then it is good I wore my walking shoes.” Hannibal says with a bright smile, and Will is entirely certain that this man is some form of Nordic sun lord come to earth. Either way, Will was glad he’d done the same.  “We can burn the calories we’re likely about to gain.”

Hannibal laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound. Will gestures for him to follow, and their trek begins down the crooked steps that would bring them further closer to Lower Quebec. The smell of baked sweets and flowers swept through the cobbled streets on a humid breeze. Tall, old buildings stretched up around them, immaculately maintained with wooden signs and doors painted bright and cheer, large windows displaying the attractions inside, their touch of modern fitting well with the area while still holding onto the rustic feel.

The two fall into step, walking amongst the groups of people bumping and chattering, taking time to point out different shops to one-another and making light conversation. About thirty minutes down, when they have grown close enough together for their shoulders to brush and any glances are warm with affection, Will pulls them aside upon seeing a shop titled _La Fudgerie_ which bathed the air outside of it with the smell of fresh gelato and sweet chocolates.

The inside is open and cool, small bistro tables and seats litter the area as tables stacked decoratively with chocolates stand upon the uneven ceramic tile floor. Several counters house other treats, including a collection of bright gelatos.

“White chocolate,” Will says after bee lining to one of the deplays, holding up a paper bag of chocolate bark to Hannibal’s eye level, “Is the best of all. Make no mistakes.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal replies, humor shining in his eyes, and Will gives him a face that says he doesn’t make the rules. “Well I believe that dark chocolate is the primary.”

Will’s scoff is hardy, and Hannibal gives him a sarcastic roll of eyes in response. They end up leaving with not only the chocolate bark, but a collection of gourmet truffles and chocolate cream croissants for Hannibal, and a block of mint lemon fudge for Will, which they shared with a bottle of water while continuing their trek even lower through the antique city.

When Hannibal laces their fingers together during a particularly steep slope, the excuse could’ve been made it was to avoid any accidents, but it is barely acknowledged to Will other than when asked if it was alright. Will had only responded by squeezing Hannibal’s hand like it was the most casual thing on the world and pointed out a shop that was dedicated to freshwater pearls.

After what was likely the workout of the century through small, narrow streets, they _finally_ reach the bottom. The air is fresh and cool with sea water, and the streets are wide and open, more accessible to vehicle than before, and Will sighs loudly, turning his face up to the sun and tremors slightly as cool sweat runs down his temple. Hannibal finds his relief amusing and tugs his hand gently to indicate that they must continue before one of them collapsed from the heat.

 Finding _Le Petit Cochon Dingue_ wasn’t difficult, the bright blue overhang giving it away from a mile, branching from a tall, grey stone building. In front a patio was set with wooden seats and glass tables, surrounded by a short black fence. Above, the branches of an old tree hang, setting the scene. Across the street on an odd angle is a stone building with many windows, each decorated with red shutters. Another eye catching structure had a faded yellow coat and red and white wooden balcony’s lining upwards.

They were instantly hit with bone dry air conditioning upon entry, sighing their relief. Having seen pictures of the interior as well as the menu and a few of the dishes, Will was fairly certain that this was an acceptable location for them both. Dark wooden sideboards paired with white and blue walls. Port decorations gave it the classic shipyard aesthetic, as did the fact there was an old fishers net hanging in plain view. It wasn’t tacky nor overdone, a perfect balance of appropriation.

Not requiring reservations, the two opt for a table outside under the shade of the overhang. Music plays softly from nearby speakers and the breeze is cool and comforting. “What do you think?” Will asks, if not a little nervously.

“I think you have good taste.” Hannibal responds with one of his smiles that Will is growing ever so fond of. Not being able to help the blush that rushed over his features, Will grins down at the table. Luckily he didn’t have to bask in his bashfulness for long, a waitress interrupting their little bubble.

Tall and thin with ebony skin and fluffy dark hair, her gold septum ring that matches the one through her brow flashes at them as she asks if they required English. Hannibal takes charge as if sensing Will’s hesitance with the stranger. “Non, merci. Avez-vous une carte de boissons?”

“Oui. Juste ici.” She says, leaning over them to pull the drink menu from the far side of the table before telling them she’d give them another minute. Will tanked her, as did Hannibal, waiting for her to whisk off before looking over the drinks.

Will decides on a craft beer while Hannibal choses a red wine, making Will’s brows arch. Hannibal sighs at his mocking grin and comments reluctantly, “I suppose you thought me to be a bear man.”

“You’ve yet to surprise me.” Will chirps, lips pressed but unable to hide the upward hook of his lips. After their drink orders are placed, they take time with their menus, conversation dying down so their decisions could be made in time.

Will decides on the seafood potpie with the Thai salad on the side, but continues to stare at the menu so as not to seem impatient. Hannibal sets his menu down a minute or two later, and Will does the same. Giving him a sheepish look when Hannibal raises a brow but doesn’t comment.

“So,” Hannibal starts, and Will subconsciously straightens his shoulders, leaving forward on the table. “What brought you to Quebec City, Will?”

“Well I can tell you it wasn’t the walking aspect.” Will jokes, and he succeeds in hearing Hannibal’s near holy sounded laugh once more. Shaking his head, he manages to straighten his face slightly so as to be more serious. “No, it’s a bit strange. I recently came into some money. More than I admit I know what to do with, so I figured I would get away from my life as fast as possible.”

“And Quebec I presume held some significance to you?” Hannibal questions, and Will shrugs. “My father always said he would take me here if he could, so when the choices rang up, something like Cuba didn’t really fit. I knew it was a beautiful place, and I technically already knew language. Really I needed something out of state and entirely different from what I’m used to.” Shrugging again, Will leans back in his seat and gestures to the man across from him. “And you? What brings you to sunny ol’ Quebec?”

“Well I have no doubt you have successfully found that.” Hannibal says, head tilted and smiling charming. The waitress returns with their drinks before Hannibal could say, and they both place their orders. Hannibal adding a tray of potato skin appetizers to his order of a Croque Monsieur.

Pouring some of his beer from its bottle into the glass he’d been given, Will watches appreciatively as the golden liquid cascades over the ice, making it crackle and slide. Hannibal takes advantage of the pause to hook his middle finger around the base of the wine glass and take a sip, humming in surprised appreciation.

“So?” Will prods, leaning his elbows onto the table and waving a hand for Hannibal to answer his previous asked question. Taking a mouthful of his beer, Will lets out an audible sigh after swallowing that Hannibal raises his brows at. Will gives him a look that expresses exactly how much he didn’t care.

“I have come here before and found that I cannot help but return.” Is Hannibal’s rather mundane reasoning. Will nods in understanding. Quebec’s historic beauty and quaint levity was very tempting after all.

Conversation continues on normally as they wait for their meals. Appetizers arrive first, as expected, and are shared between them. Will finds himself trying to use as much manners as possible while silently praying he didn’t do anything considered unsightly, or, well, _gross_.

Hannibal seemed far to carefree, utterly confident in himself not to mess up in front of Will, and if he did it wouldn’t really matter to him. _Unfair._

Will is about to speak when his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket, attaching both his and Hannibal’s attention. He is ready to let it go until it happens again. “Sorry.” He mutters, pulling it out and checking on who it was. No surprises when Beverly is displayed. Whatever it was could wait after all.

“So,” Will says, attempting to regain his train of thought, leaning back in his chair with beer in hand. He’s feeling contentedly sated at the moment, and his eyes narrow as he asks. “What do you do that you can afford to wear v-necks anyways?”

Hannibal laughs aloud, looking down at the white v-neck t-shirt he was wearing with his jeans. Like Will, he’d dressed light enough to stay cool, but no overly so. “Well, if I must be honest I have my finger in a lot of pies –”

“Hold on, don’t tell me.” Will says suddenly, leaning forward quickly with one hand outstretched to stop Hannibal in his path. Will sets his beer down, grinning and eyes twinkling as he says, “You’re in charity work? Doctor. Or Nurse.” Will shakes his head. “I’m trying to think of careers that you’d have to be involved in a lot of things. Teacher?”

“All very good guesses.” Hannibal teases, eyes crinkled in the corner as he smiles, a momentary distraction for Will’s observatory mind. “I would say I have dabbled in them all.”

When Will’s eyebrows sky rocket, Hannibal elaborates. “In my youth I attended Medical school and became a surgeon, but at that time I had some intrusive _hobbies_ that were taking up a majority of my life. Which in the end didn’t matter as I admittedly found that career path was far too intense for my tastes, and I found myself end up in the psychological area of health.”

Will whistled, already impressed by the dedication let alone mindset that Hannibal must have to achieve that level of education. “Then what?”

“Again I felt I hadn’t made the proper choice. I found a job interest for a small school that needed a part time therapist. Due to its shabbier location, it was looking for someone with the understanding of normalized street violence. Against the wishes of my associates, I took up the position. Eventually they wanted to shut the school down, I and many others were forced to raise the funds ourselves to keep it going. It took two years, but afterwards we were given sponsorship and began a charity to help other schools in need.”

“Wow.” Will says, unsure of what else could possibly describe how dumbstruck he was by this sudden rush of information. “Very Freedom Writers but... Wow. I'm impressed.”

“I must admit, there is much more, but I believe the details can be overpassed as unimportant for the time being.” Hannibal sighs, rubbing one hand across his calf with was proper upon his opposite knee. “Although now I am interested in your occupation, Will.”

“Okay, well, brace yourself,” Will teases rolling his eyes. “This is going to be absolutely boring in comparison.”

“I’m sure whatever it is will not cease to impress me.” Hannibal chirps, and Will tries to ignore the blush that crawls up his ears. Shaking it off, he takes a quick sip of his beer before pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass. “I’m a teacher.”

When he looks up, Hannibal’s expression of interest isn’t falsified. Disbelieving, Will sits back in his seat and huffs. “Come on, don’t tell me that is interesting to you.”

“I believe teaching to be extreme interesting.” Hannibal replies, and Will would think he’s being cheeky or overly charming if he didn’t already know it wasn’t the man’s style. “What age group?”

“University, technically.” Will sighs. “At the FBI Academy in Virginia.”

“And you believe that not as interesting as my own position?” Hannibal questions, brows pulled down as if confused by the prospect. Will all but gapes. “You’re joking right?”

“Not at all. You are not only educating young minds, but you are advancing them to the rights of law and criminal justice. These things being taught will keep our world in order once people like you and I have gone. I believe it just as important as charity work, if not more.”

Will stares at him for a moment before sighing in defeat, a small smile spreading his face. “How do you make everything sound better than it actually is?”

“Natural optimism.” Hannibal replies as if it’s the most natural thing on the planet.

Will couldn’t comment before their food arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s practically floating when he reaches the hotel room.

Hannibal and he had enjoyed a fantastic dinner before making their horrible hike back up. They parted ways at the top of the Breakneck Steps where they had first joined, but it was not before Hannibal placed his large, warm hand on Will’s collarbone, fingers gently stroking the side of his neck as they stood ever so close.

Part of Will thought that man was to kiss him, but alas, no such thing happened. Will didn’t regret it though, every second spent was one well worth, and it wasn’t until he returned to his hotel room – greeted thoroughly by Winston, who’d been sleeping while he left – that he remembered the texts that he had received.

Will waited till he was settled in bed first, still glowing with the warmth of the day as an unmaintainable smile refuses to abandon his features. Coiling in sheets with Indiana Jones playing on a French channel in the background, it is only then that he bothers to check.

As he remembered, it was from Beverly, the first few words displayed on the lock screen were in capital, making his smile dip in the slightest. Unlocking the device and tapping on his messages, they were dated to a few hours earlier with a blue highlighted link following suit.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CHECKED THE WEB. YOU NEED TO SEE THIS.

Under the link she’d also sent a final message a few minutes later as if she’d spent them searching for something. MORE WHERE THIS CAME FROM.

Now as worried as he was curious, Will taps the link, sitting up straight and watching the white screen as his phone loads. He can’t explain why, but his pulse jumps, heart picking up a beat. By the time it loads, his patience has been thoroughly test, but everything seems to freeze as he scrolls down to see the headline.

When he does, Will Graham nearly drops his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also attack my future partner on our first date.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, all the places they visit/see including buildings, are all things i actually went to and saw in Quebec last year. If you want some good pictures of what the place looked like, just for your imagination, you can find it on google images or on TripAdvisor.
> 
> BTW Hannibal is such a pure soul in this but i'm still not done surprising y'all yet. There's still more to him and Will both, and yes Will has a dog with him in Quebec you'll understand why later.


	4. Poutine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will faces some serious reality as well as privacy violations; he confronts Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I either update once every nine years or seven times a week. There is no in between.
> 
> TAB BUTTON FINALLY UNJAMMED!
> 
> UBETA"D

 

                Will rings Beverly immediately.

                "The fuck is this?” He all but barks into the receiver, the only think that makes it not so is the quavering confusion riddling in his voice, the extra minutes of dial tone before she had picked up making him all the more agitated. “Some kind of prank?”

                “It’s exactly what it looks, Will, I’m serious.” He can hear the drowsiness quickly seep from her voice, phone rustling as she switches it to the other ear. “That’s not the only one. There’s a ton more. Look it up if you must but I’m not screwing with you.”

                What had made Will so currently distressed was the large Headline of an article which read _LECTER IN LOVE AT LAST?_ scrolling down so quickly he nearly overshot the article completely, Will rushes to read the opening paragraph, pulse jumping under his skin.

_Hannibal Lecter is back at it again, this time adding a little spice to his annual trip to Quebec City. Lecter was seen with this mysterious man on what seemed to be an intimate romantic evening. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen the ex-champion with his man on his arm as much a woman, but sources say that our newest update in Lecter’s love life is forty-one-year-old criminology professor William Graham, a far cry from the usual Lecter tastes._

                The article cuts off briefly to show a picture of Will and Hannibal taken outside the Le Petit Cochon Dingue together, Will is leaned back, beer in hand and grinning widely, Hannibal radiant as he laughed at something Will had said.

                Now seeing the picture from an outside perspective, it made Will swallow awkwardly. It hadn’t felt as romantic as it was depicted here, the lighting, the setting, how they smiled at one-another. Will would grudgingly admit this was good evidence. But as he scrolled down things only seemed to get worse as the article continues.

_Who is Will Graham, you may be wondering. As before, our clever sources have whipped out their magnifying glasses to try and find a peak into his life, and like the blood hounds they are, we found the motherlode. Sergeant William Louis Graham of the US Military was on a peacekeeping mission in 2012 when his particular envoy, carrying an apparent government witness, was bombed by enemy forces._

_Although we can’t get our hands on much, evidence shows that Graham spent three days pinned in the wreckage of his vehicle after watching the deaths of all 8 of his squad members, before finally being rescued, severely injured and at risk of death._

_How did the Sergeant meet Hannibal Lecter? Nobody can guess. And for those who don’t know what all the huss and fuss is about, well let me clue you in; Hannibal Robertus Lecter, forty-five, is a Lithuanian former competitive swimmer and figure skater who attending both Summer and Winter Olympics. Bringing home his first gold medal at the tender age of 17 for figure skating in 1988, as well as another three in the 1994 Winter’s Olympics, but only after making his swimming debut in the 1992 Summer Games, where it seems he found his preference, bringing home another 7 gold medals plus countless silver and bronze over 1996 and 2000._

_It’s only after a diving accident gone wrong that Lecter is forced into a fitful retirement, having more time to study in psychiatry and run the successful LV-B Charity for Schools in Need, supporting countless community buildings, showing himself to be a true radiant personality and hope in the eyes of many who are unfortunate._

_So if we are to look at the facts again, Hannibal Lecter, gold medal champion with the world at his feet, and Will ‘G.I. Joe’ Graham, which a chip on his shoulder and likely extreme mental if not physical damage. Whether this is just pieces of a puzzle, or Lecter’s going mad, we don’t know but log onto TattleLife again next week for an update._

                Will is left staring like an idiot at the article, mouth unhinged for long enough his tongue had become maddeningly dry. The information he had to process was ridiculous – somehow this, this, _TattleLife_ had gotten ahold of his military records, which he supposed is a shit ton better than his medical, but still. Someone had found purposely removed documents belonging to the Unit States of America and posted them on a gossip sight because Will Graham is apparently fucking a _gold medalist_.

                The stone rage bubbling up is nothing like the deadpan shock Will feels upon thinking of Hannibal. No wonder he’d recognized the name when he’d first heard it, even if he couldn’t place it, as well as that tourist with the large camera he’d seen lurking around the market, and another around the restaurant that day. The man was the miracle teen prodigy he’d been hearing about for so long, going down in the history books for his accomplishments.

                Will still could remember the day he’d heard about the accident he’d had – diving board cracking from age, right out from under Hannibal Lecter during a routine practice. Caught off guard, he went back-first towards the pool edge. While he landed in the water, one arm did not, elbow hitting the cement siding so hard the bone had cracked in half, a compound fracture so severe the bone as cut through the veins of his wrist, out of his arm, and had the sharp tip lodged up between his middle and index finger for all to see. Just thinking about it makes Will squirm and press his lips, the accident almost making what happened to him seem alright – _almost._

Will snatches his discarded phone back up, flinching away as Beverly gave a rather unpleasant shout of “Dammit Graham!”.

                “I’m here.” Will says, voice oddly croaky. There’s a silence between them as Beverly seems to pick up how unsteady he was at the moment from this sudden privacy invasion as well at the burning truth of Hannibal Lecter.

                “Are you okay?” She asks, gently, already knowing the answer. Will can almost imagine here, a small line between her brows and a thin frown upon her face, leaned forward on whatever table was in front of her, fingers twitching to reach out and lay her hand over his, or even on his shoulder. Beverly was a considerate person, and Will felt a sudden burst of appreciation in his heart.

                “Not really.” Will mutters, sighing almost defeated as he asks, “How many of these are there?”

                The first twelve pages when you type in ‘Hannibal Lecter’.” At Wills groan, she adds, “This guy is the real deal. Google has one of those little box profiles that comes up and everything. Apparently he’s also publish two books and been features in few movies.”

                “What have I done to myself, Bev.” Will says pathetically. “I can’t exactly just stop seeing him now, could i?”

                “Technically you could.” Beverly chirps, and Will could hear the ‘but’ coming from a mile. “But you _like_ him, Will. I saw the pictures –”

                “ _Pictures_?” Will all but exclaims. “There’s more?”

                “Of course there’s more.” She scoffs before picking up from where Will interrupted, ignoring his aggravated noise. “You looked happy. You both did. Even if this means you’ll be living your life out loud, maybe you should give this a go. Either way, both you and Hannibal are going to be dragged through the mud more than once. It’s your choice.”

                Will sighs again, deep and heavy, closing his eyes as he did. Beverly was right. He did like Hannibal, and the man made him happy and fascinated, something he hadn’t gotten from anyone for a while. But there was always the winning question, something Will spoke aloud to himself and Beverly both, “Is it worth it?”

                “Now _that,_ ” Beverly declares. “Is up to you.”

 

* * *

 

 

                “Will.”

                Sat inside a _St. Hubert’s_ positioned under the Hotel Chateau Laurier where Will was currently staying, Will had taken Beverly’s later suggestion of contacting Hannibal for a discussion, something the man had immediately agreed to.

Looking up, Will Graham is seating inside for once and well away from any windows, glass of iced tea sat in front of him. This of course, was purposeful, seeing as the voice belonged to Hannibal Lecter, whom it seemed was constantly stalked by pests with cameras, something Will was already paranoid enough about.

Will says nothing, watching as Hannibal pulls out the seat from across him and seats himself. The silence is tense, Hannibal trying to catch Will’s gaze and is disappointed when the other man rejects, focusing his eyes on his hands instead.

“Listen –” Hannibal begins, and Will cuts him off before he can even start. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hannibal seems to deflate, exhaling heavily and looking down at the table awkwardly. “I had figured this would not happen. I am sorry.”

“Figured what wouldn’t happen? That you, a celebrity, wouldn’t be able to go on a date without half the fucking planet finding out about it later?” Will snaps, loud enough to draw an embarrassing amount of gazes.

                “Will, I am truly sorry.” Hannibal says, and he means it. It’s written in his expression and the pain in his eyes. Will takes a minute of justice for how he has been wronged before scoffing. “I want to forgive you, but I feel I should tell you to go fuck yourself as well.” Will sighs admittedly. “I really didn’t need this shit from my past dragged out into the light like this. Why didn’t you warn me?”

Although the last part is said softly, Will’s tone is particularly stony, arms crossed where he sits, glaring at Hannibal. Hannibal, raises his hands to elbow height. “In all honesty, I am surprised you did not tell me to ‘ _go fuck myself’_ much before now, and that I feel this meeting is a way to redeem my mistakes. Admittedly an inane part of me believed that if I had told you, it would conflict your interest as it had many before. Whether with greed or instant dislike, even just jealousy, I did not know. I just. I like you, Will. And I am fascinated by you. I did not want to lose you before we began.”

When Will swallows, his throat feels suspiciously tight under the implication of what Hannibal had said. “I like you too, Hannibal.” Will mutters awkwardly. “But you should’ve told me.”

“I understand, and I can assure you that there is nothing else of importance to our relationship that will remain unmentioned unless the situation is incredibly dire.”

“So that’s what we are, eh?” Will says, a small, off-kilter grin on his face as he looks up at Hannibal through his messy hair. “A relationship?”

“I would like to believe so.” Hannibal replies with much more certainly then Will expected, and Will nodded in agreement, smiling a little wider now. “I would too.”

This was the second time both men found themselves in silence, although it was much more comfortable, Will grinning bashfully down at the table. Relationship. He was in a relationship with Hannibal Lecter. Will nearly laughed aloud from the childlike, giddy pounding of his heart.

“Do you want to know anything about…?” Will trailed off, heart still beating hard as he looks up hesitantly at Hannibal. It’s clear what he’s implying if Hannibal had read any of the articles that Will had seen. After his conversation with Beverly, Will had located that the first one to hold all his private information was indeed the TattleLife webpage. He made sure to block the article after that.

“Nothing that you are not comfortable in disclosing.” Hannibal replies almost immediately, a sharp honestly in his intense gaze as he looks up at Will. He’s deadly serious, and Will figures that he’d probably be held to that until – well, until he did something.

                Will reached across the table for Hannibal’s hand, placing his own atop it and squeezing gently. Hannibal, as expected, turned his over so as to twine their fingers together.

                “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” Hannibal murmurs suddenly, and Will’s eyes soften, a looming sadness and pain in his gaze that seems to struggle to stay away. “Hannibal, I would explain to you if I could but I –”

                “Will, no. You don’t have to say anything until you are ready.” Hannibal squeezes Will’s hand sharply to add punctuation to his words, the jolt making Will wonder exactly how serious they were becoming within these minutes they’d been speaking. Instead of verbalizing this, he sends a flicked gaze to Hannibal’s left arm.

                “I heard what happened to you as well.” Will struggles to keep his voice straight as he speaks, the memories from his past nearly chewing him through, making him miss Winston who was upstairs. It was a wonder this hotel was a pet-friendly estate, but then again, when it came to service dogs Will had highly doubted they’d decline.

                “Ah,” Hannibal says, pulling Will from his thoughts as an all-too-healthy distraction. His eyes are twinkling and a wry smile tugs his lips. “I presume you mean my arm.”

                “It’s alright if _you_ don’t want to talk about that.” Will teases, feeling awkward at the prospect of making Hannibal speak of something he was uncomfortable about especially since he was so considerate towards Will.

                “Nonsense.” Hannibal says, waving it off, extracting his hand from Will’s so as to remove the ever present brown leather jacket to place his exposed forearm on the dark table. The scar isn’t exactly thick, but it’s definitely there, awkwardly knotted and pulled together where the bone had burst from the skin, and the line down the center forearm from where they’d cut the skin over to reset it.

                Before he can help it, Will gently grasps his wrist with one hand. The other reaching forward to trace a finger down over the line and into the based, messy scar tissue. He whistled gently, looking up at Hannibal, who’d been watching his finger intently, almost amused by Will’s curiosity.

                “it must’ve been hell.” Will says, withdrawing his hands so Hannibal could have his arm back. The man gave a light shrug. “There was much blood, but I was lucky the impact ensure I wasn’t conscious long. Apparently several other swimmers vomited at the sight. Two of which withdrew from the team the next day.”

                Will laughs, shaking his head. Hannibal making light of such a thing was impressive, something he’d never been good at. Just at the thought, old wounds begin to tingle once more, and Will resists the urge to twitch.

                “Would you like to get some lunch while we’re here?” Will asks hesitantly, shrugging as if it meant nothing while his heart raced under his shirt. He was almost entirely sure that effect would never leave him whenever Hannibal was involved. The man somehow struck a nervous energy into him over the littlest things for no reason. “The poutine is wonderful.”

                Hannibal smiles, exposing a few white, pointed canines to Will’s view, which somehow makes him grin too. “I’d love nothing more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter. My inspiration is all over the place right now.
> 
> The Hotel Chateau Laurier is an actual place, and it a seriously nice hotel RIGHT beside the Fields of Abraham. Look it up, because some the pictures of this place, man. Got my hotel-aesthetic drooling.


	5. Cold Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will reveals some more of his past. There's also some action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, but this might be sad? I can't tell.
> 
> UBETA'D till this ends basically get used to it.
> 
> Also my tab button hates me??

A day passes. And then a week.

Will had set a reasonable four weeks of his life aside for this trip, and now bordering on week three, he still almost determinedly refused to think of the future that was to come afterwards. A small, lonely cold cabin with only Winston and his memories for company.

With the idea of memories in mind, it had been a great toll taken from his shoulders upon discovering Hannibal as a prime distraction, leading his thoughts and memories to brighter, happier places.

Of course the dreams continued – painful clarity of his Sergeant days – the sounds of gunfire and explosions, the yell of his men and the enemies alike as clouds of dust and debris flies into the skies. The bodies that lie loose and limp, or even worse, the ones being dragged to the shelter of collapsed walls or Jeeps.

Will’s mouth goes dry at the memory, a cool sweat breaking out above his temples as he re-opens his eyes with a shudder. He is not back in the warzone. He is here, in the Fields of Abraham, Winston curled around his ankles where he sat on a bench, waiting for Hannibal to return from his grandeur hike to find them some water.

Today he’d forlorn his t-shirt for something lighter, all but watching the tan grow on his arms and face while his legs remained trapped fitfully under light denim jeans. Hannibal, meanwhile, had given up on his endeavor and showed up in some thin, loose white pants that matched in color to the barely buttoned shirt he was wearing, sunglasses hooking on the buttoned area.

Will had snorted upon seeing him, making a comment on how Hannibal seemed determined to have some chest hair showing at all times, to which Will received a light shove and a mocking reply of _“I know you like it.”_ Which left his blushing and flustered.

Hannibal had been surprised and delighted to meet Winston. Although the tags on his collar where large to display his position as a therapy dog, Hannibal hadn’t mentioned anything, instead, kneeling to let Winston sniff him. Will had watched with a near painful adoration in his chest.

After what could be considered a ridiculously long trek, they’d found themselves a nice place to sit, chatting idly, about Will’s teachings over the years.

“I’d once had a student who absolutely refused to use paragraph breaks,” Will said with an almost intense passion, grinning widely all the same. “Every essay was an absolute nightmare to read. I’d have to look at a blank wall for twenty minutes before being able to look at that black and white chunk – only to find I’d lost my spot.”

Such stories then lead to Hannibal’s stories of public school corruptions and failures he’d witnessed before, and he had recalled with vivid memory to Will of a principle who would actually still beat students he believed to be ‘lost causes’. Several had needed hospitalizations despite it being declined to them.

“This world is full of horrors.” Will sighs, shaking his head. “I admire what you do, Hannibal. You really are a good person.”

“I could say the same about you, Will.” Hannibal had said, eyes appraising the side of Will’s face, the absurd youth that still clings despite his age. Rubbing his hands together, Hannibal had then continued near hesitantly, “I had heard, of course, of what you had done for this country, and I greatly admire your bravery.”

Hannibal’s hand is then on Will’s knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. Will as looking over at him, cerulean eyes searching Hannibal’s lined face before a small smile tugs his lips and he nods, unsure of what to say.

That had been the end of the conversation, because the sight of a drink salesmen was all Hannibal needed to be up and asking Will if he wanted some water, to which he gratefully accepted. He’d watched Hannibal start his way over to the man, and had then turned in upon himself and his thoughts.

And he comes back to himself now, hands clammy and just in time for Hannibal’s return, gratefully accepting the offered water bottle. After a few quick mouthfuls, he pushes the tap back on lazily, offering it towards Hannibal who declines. Instead Will just places the bottle across he knees.

“I’ve noticed you don’t seem fond of plastic water bottles.” Will chirps with an arched brow, wrestling a stick from Winston as he did and tossing it a few feet away.

“yes,” Hannibal laughs, leaning back against the bench, legs crossed and his arms across the back, one of which resting fitfully behind Will’s shoulders. “I consider myself considerably _eco_.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you were vegetarian next. If I hadn’t seen you eat that _St. Hubert’s_ Specialty Poutine the other night, I’d be entirely sure of it by now.”

Hannibal tsk’s him, shaking his head but grinning at the contradiction. “I may not be vegetarian, but I tend to remain towards the healthier side of the food pyramid.”

“Ah,” Will smirks, throwing the stick once again for Winston and nearly missing hitting a small child with it. “Organic foods. All four food groups. Proper portion sizes.”

“That is how I would describe it, yes.” Hannibal chirps, the arm he’d leaned across the bench beside Will shirting so he could scratch contemplatively at the hair on the back of Will’s neck. Will leans into it appreciatively as Hannibal continues. “A force of habit from my competitive days, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, of course.” Will says dryly, rolling his eyes sarcastically, earning him a pinch to his scalp. “Nobody said you had to continue it, but the again I can’t talk. Sometimes I still find myself missing dehydrated food packets that only needed hot water to magically become dinner.”

Will doesn’t mention how many times he still wakes up in the morning and swishes Foldgers coffee grinds around his mouth with a shot of lukewarm water before remembering he has a coffee pot again, or how many nights he makes dry rice, a barely-boil monstrosity with too much salt, simply because it was what he was used to.

Feeling his leg being jostled by Winston’s annoyed nuzzling, Will throws the stick for the ever-returning dog, both men watching as he chases after it.

When Will finally turns his head towards Hannibal to say something, he finds the man’s gaze locked intently on something, brows furrowed and confusion in his gaze, the fingers that had been rubbing at Will’s scalp having paused.

Now confused himself, Will looks down to what Hannibal was seeing to – oh. The water bottle, loosely capped, must’ve opened during Winston’s nudging, the water pouring out over Will’s right knee and down his pant leg. Will realize a second to late why exactly Hannibal is confused, seeing as most people would react instantly to the temperature and feeling of ice water running down their leg.

Gut dropping at the prospect of undesired question, Will swears loudly, snatching the bottle up as he stands, shaking his leg lightly as if that was going to shake the water loose. Shoulders slumping, he sighs deeply, looking over at a still confused but now very blankly masked expression.

Swallowing his sudden swarm of terror, Will pushes it aside to awkwardly laugh. “And this it why you don’t let yourself get distracted in the presence of a dog.”

Hannibal laughs, but there is still some lurking suspicion in his gaze, and Will feels the need to erase that as soon as he can. Hooking Winston’s leash back onto the dog now jumping around his ankles, Will straightens and offers his hand out to Hannibal. “Maybe it’s time we get out of the sun.”

“Of course.” Hannibal inclines, taking Will’s hand in his own and standing, and Will is relieved to see that any dangerous interest was set aside as the two men once again began their walk of hell, Winston bounding around them as they did.

 

* * *

 

 

 “Well, here it is.” Will says, turning on the light to his current lodgings and stepping aside so Hannibal could make his way inside.

To say Will’s room in the Laurier was ‘spacy’ would be an understatement. Second largest to the Presidential Suite, the place had a small eating area, kitchenette, bedroom, living area, and bathroom. All of this with an incredible view of the Abraham Fields, and Will figured it was well worth the money, even if he did get his stay more than fifty percent off with deals and veterans discount.

Hannibal hums gently as he looks around, taking his shoes off after Will did and following him farther inside as Winston pranced off in the direction of the bathroom.

“Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink? Beer?”

“A beer would be heavenly right now, I must admit.” Hannibal laughs, and Will grins, leading into the little kitchenette that was blocked only by a thin wall. Every then, it had a large square hole in it so Hannibal could see him still. The entire room had a very open floor plan.

“Quite a view” Hannibal chirps mischievously a second later when Will crouches down to get their drinks. Face instantly flushing, Will laughs, shooting a look over his shoulder at the other man.

“You’ll change your mind.” Will smirks as he returns to his feet and walks to Hannibal, offering him his beer. After a momentary distraction of Hannibal using his shirt end to open the caps, leaving Will a full minute to stare openly at the man’s muscled while still soft abdomen, they clink their bottles together.

“I somehow doubt it.” Hannibal had replied, before taking a mouthful of the icy beverage, exhaling light after doing so. “Much better then American beer.”

Will snorts but also nods in agreement. “I almost miss that watery shit.”

They stand facing each other for another pause before Will sighs aloud and brushes by Hannibal to go fall onto the couch., tossing his knees onto the next cushion so as to take the pressure off his ankles.

“Most of the channels are French if you want to watch something, but I do have a few discs.” Will shrugs as Hannibal takes a seat on a chair nearby. The place is furnished with warm colors, but the furniture and sheets had seemed to stand to starkly of a white for Will’s tastes. Even then, the entire place was ridiculously comfortable.

“May I ask you something somewhat personal?” Hannibal says suddenly, and while his regular simplicity is there, Will looks over at him with a furrow in his brow. Fearing the worse, Will also straights up a bit, setting his beer down on the end table between them. “Shoot.”

“From observation, you do not seem like the type to dig up everything in their life and take a trip. Although I have not known you long enough to tell if this was a planned occasion, and cannot determine myself, I have found myself trusting you easily, so if there something I would need to know, if you are perhaps running from something or someone, I can trust you would tell me?”

Will stares at him blankly, all expression having slid away minutes ago. Hannibal had seemed almost hesitant in speaking his mind, which was downright ludicrous in comparison to how Will had barreled straight into his privacy much earlier. It is this that draws a bark of laugher from Will’s lips, earning raised brows and a small, predetermined smile from Hannibal.

Sighing and leaning back into the cushion with ease, Will takes a swig of beer before answering, “Hannibal, there is a lot I’m running from. A spouse or debt or trouble are not any of them. As for planning,” Will shrugs, glancing over at Hannibal, “you’re right. None of this was planned. I came into a shit ton of money, I’m still recovering from my military days, and I’ve taken to doing shots every time I see a spelling error in my student’s essays. It was all pretty sporadic.”

Will sighs again, holding Hannibal’s gaze firmly as he continues, “There is nothing I won’t tell you that I feel you need to know it.”

Hannibal nods, looking considerably more comfortable in his surroundings before he suddenly looks back over at Will, more confident in his question then before, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you mean by coming into a ‘shit ton of money’?”

Will snorts. “I won a lawsuit within three days of gaining inheritance from a family member.”

There is a slight pause where Hannibal doesn’t speak, and Will feels a small, aching sadness in his chest, deciding this was something that he wouldn’t mind sharing, seeing as only Beverly knows.

“The inheritance came from a woman name was Tilda. My dad died when I was thirteen – lung cancer, hereditary, apparently. – so I became a ward of the state. People tend to want little kids, and because of that, i ended up in a delinquency center,” At Hannibal’s pressed look, Will feels the need to explain, not knowing if the other man understood, “Nice name for a form of Juvenile Hall, just dump the kids nobody wants in with the trouble makers and let ‘em go.”

Will continues with another mouthful of beer, now all but laying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling, “I remember my first family. Had about six other kids, but it wasn’t horrible. It went fine until the oldest one decided that taking out his anger about the system that had fucked us both on my body was a good idea. Nearly killed me. Family got rid of me fast after that, and I learned pretty quick a lot of houses are this way. Ended up learning how to fight back eventually, and my own aggression started to mature. Never picked on those younger than me, but if someone started a fight I was all for it.

Shaking his head in the memory of house stupid he’d been, Will wets his lips before he continues. He never remembered it being this long when he told Beverly. “I got a track record, started getting into some shit I shouldn’t have, and it was around this time I get transferred into Tilda’s home. She was around thirty at the time and couldn’t have kids of her own. She didn’t like toddlers and wouldn’t mind a ‘problem kid’, so they dropped my ass on her. It was hard for us both at first, I remember that. She was strict, but still kind, a mother I’d never had to be stereotypical about it.

 “Ended up getting involved with some kids I shouldn’t of, and it was only when I saw a guy I’d consider my friend get beaten to death when I realized, as cliché as it was, my dad wouldn’t have wanted that for me. He had pulled out as long as he could, not being able to afford chemo or proper medication just to feed me, but he still held out. I could imagine how upset he’d be to find out his only son, after all he’d done for him, went and got himself killed in some dumbass brawl.

“Tilda helped my dumb ass get clean, and my grades didn’t exactly skyrocket, but they improved. Pretty soon she was all I had and cared about, just us in a townhouse with a couple dogs and a cat. I stopped being social in fear of becoming the mess that I’d once been, taking to books and writing instead. I never really saw much of a career path for myself, so when I found out Tilda’s youngest brother had been in the military, sounded like a good idea.”

Will shrugs then, finishing his beer and a quick two swallows before sighing and setting it on the glass coffee table. “She was always there when I came home. Always. She died two months ago from a heart attack, and left me everything.”

Silence follows this story, a buzzing, light, silence that always seems to be there once you spill your guts, the type that makes you jittery and your front teeth click as they clench together.

“I would apologize, but I do not think that would cover it.” Come Hannibal’s low murmur, and Will huffs, sitting up and looking over at Hannibal, who’s expression had been on of blank impassiveness the entire time.

“You’re the second person to ever hear the story.” Will admits, nearly sky about it. When Hannibal meets his eyes, there is such an overwhelming wave of emotions that Will feels near crippled under the weight. “Then I shall never breath a word of it.”

Will stares with near shock, the adoration blooming in his chest like a rose under sunlight, lays and layers of velvety warmth enclosing his ribcage, and he’s on his feet in a second, walking over to Hannibal, tossing his arms around the man’s neck sloppily as he straddles him, kissing him as passionately as he could, trying to display every emotion this man had made him felt since they met between their lips.

Hannibal is lax, and Will would’ve broken his blank, adrenaline induced thought process to ponder if Hannibal did not, in fact, want to kiss him, if it wasn’t for the fact Will felt a hand on the knot of his spine and one sneaking up his cheek into his hair.

Will felt Hannibal open for him, and Will took the advantage, deepening the kiss and swiping his tongue lightly over Hannibal’s lip. He’d never been quite too good at French kissing himself – if they even still called it that – but he still had his moments.

Hannibal seemed just as keen, tilting his head for a better angle and kissing back just as vigorously, the taste of hops from the beer heavy on the man’s lips and tongue both, and they are both running out of breath, hands grasping at one-another, rocking together gently as the feeling of warmth seems to grow.

Hannibal parts first, tilting his forehead against Will’s so that they could catch their breath, panting lightly, both of their hearts beating a mad rhythm in their chests. Will had conveyed every bit of passion he’d felt moments ago into this moment, every breath, every press of their mouths, he wanted to feel it too.

And Hannibal had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only written kiss scenes a few times. By a few i mean like nine, but every time feels like my first. 
> 
> Anyway, i want you all to know i found your reactions to Hannibal's compound fractures were hilarious, and if i have to be honest i was cringing the entire time i wrote it. Also, all the military things like swishing Foldgers in their mouth? Real shit. My dad is veteran and i get a lot of my info from him.
> 
> More backstories and characters to come <3


	6. Promise of Red Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will 'get it on'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so i might've written smut. I wasn't planning on it and then it happened. NOT a long chapter.  
> SUPER UNBETA'D.

 

 _Hot_. That was the only word in Will’s mind as he, quite literally, went to town on Hannibal’s mouth. The man was like butter un his hands, entirely submissive to his control, quite the contrary to how he’d seemed to Will before. Perhaps it was because Will had initiated this contact, either way, there was no way to be sure, Will thoroughly distracted with the tongue currently in his mouth.

Although there was an underlying sexual aspect to their current _make out_ session, a rather profoundly surprising amount of space remained between their hips, and even though the heat Will had been feeling in his chest as decided to very quickly make itself known in his groin as well, he had no desire to act on it.

Hannibal seemed the same. Even as the man left a heat trail of kisses and gentle nips – which Will adore – across his jaw and throat, he made no action to close that last bit of space.

A gentle moan escapes Will when he feels a light graze of teeth over his pulse, hands that were already clutching at Lecter’s back and scruff tightening in appreciation. This receives a hum on interest and further nips, making Will squirm.

They continue on this exploration for god knows how long, Will’s hands undoing the few buttons of Hannibal’s shirt at one point to roam dry palms over toned muscles, Hannibal’s pupils blown wide and watching as he did, the man’s own palms resting firmly on Will’s denim clad thighs.

Making a gentle purring noise, Will leans his nose to Hannibal’s collarbone, a well-defined area, dips and shadows making themselves clear as he draws his teeth over the skin, Hannibal tilting his head back, hands going up over Will’s ass so he could press his thumbs into the small of the man’s back.

The artery under the tan skin of Hannibal’s neck stands at attention, and, mouth almost watering with temptation, Will runs his tongue gently up it, ending behind the ear where he bit at the skin delicately, earning a rumbling noise from Hannibal.

Maybe it’s Hannibal’s hands on him, or the race of adrenaline coursing through Will, but he gives entirely, leaning back to meet Hannibal’s dark, heated gaze, biting his lip awkwardly as he did.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

As expected, brows pressed in near confusion as the odd moment, Hannibal takes a second to gather breath before asking, “Can it wait?”

At Will’s head shake, Hannibal nods for Will to proceed. Opening his mouth, Will then shuts it again, shakes his head, and mutters something about ‘it being easier to show’. Hannibal watches all the while as Will removes one of the man’s hands from his lower back and tentatively guides it down to his right calf, sliding it up past the denim, the cotton sock, online skin –

No, _not_ skin. Cold, hard. Plastic, or maybe a metal. Likely both. And Will watching with bated breath as everything behind Hannibal’s eyes seem to click, everything from the spilt water to the perpetual jeans in one-hundred-degree weather. Will could practically see the article of their supposed relationship flash through the man’s head, ‘ _Graham spent three days pinned in the wreckage of his vehicle after watching the deaths of all 8 of his squad members’._

Will’s stomach was in knots, waiting for a response as nothing but both of their labored breathing filled the air. Sweat started to build at the base of Will’s spine and the crooks of his temples, his nervous gaze skittering over Hannibal’s face, searching desperate for a reaction.

He got one; in the form of Hannibal’s large hand coming up behind his neck and pulling him down for a soft, dare he say loving kiss. Will melts into it, worry dissolving rapidly, Hannibal’s fingers in the tresses of curls at the curve of Will’s neck, rubbing gently.

“Thank you.” Will says, voice nearly breaking as he watches Hannibal, who nods slightly. It was as if he knew exactly how hard this’d been for him, the fear of rejection from previous foolish men and women alike, the anxiety that, because he was not whole, he was not worth being with, that he was like a damaged animal, unfit for love now that they were no like everyone else.

The renewed vigor was sudden, Will clambering forward with little ease and kissing Hannibal with none of the gentleness of before, pent up frustration and lust bursting out as he leaned into him, bodies pressed together fully.

Not alone in the new pace, Hannibal takes advantage by cramming his hands between them to undo Will’s shirt, fingers slipping on the buttons more than once before managing to open the damn thing for Will to shrug off.

Although his eyes were not looking, Hannibal could feel scars under his hands, some dipped inwards while others puffed outwards, new and old, jagged and straight. Will had maintained strength after his retirement from the field, and unlike Hannibal, what little chest hair he did was with spaced and thin, nothing like the artfully declared ‘carpet’ Hannibal had let grow in after his swimming days were complete.

Will’s fingers were wound in it now, and Hannibal could feel the smile on Will’s face as he kissed him silly, the fingers in his chest hair tugging lightly as he did.

When Will rolls his hips into Hannibal’s with a touch of hesitation, it leaves them both panting, lips breaking almost in sync to pant, Hannibal’s hands flying down to Will’s waist to hold tight as he did it again, uttering a low moan as he did, head dropping down onto Hannibal’s shoulder.

They work up a pace, nothing exactly quick, but they weren’t discreet about it, Will rocking into Hannibal with an impatient vigor that signaled it’d been a while since he’d done such a thing, and admittedly, neither had Hannibal, both of them too wrapped up in the sudden pleasure to both to do the thing right.

Will’s arms wrapped around Hannibal’s neck, lips pressed against the man’s head as he panted, neither of them really caring about the fact they were rutting like teenagers. Hannibal had moved his hands from Will’s hips back onto his lower back, pulling him forward on every rolling grind, adding more pressed to both of their stick cocks, sensitive and trapped beneath layers of clothing.

“Oh god.” Will mumbles at one point, his tempo speeding up in a way that made Hannibal’s cock throb almost painful, prompting him to push his hips up slightly at Will’s new tempo, one of his hands leaving their position with the nails dug into Hannibal’s shoulder blade so as to cling to the back of the chair and rut his own bulge into Hannibal’s roughly, both of them gasping and panting, Will’s head tilted back, giving Hannibal a chance to bit rather roughly at the tender skin.

Will is first to cum, and is much more vocal about it then Hannibal, who does so a second later with a near growling noise, forehead laying against Will’s shoulder as they recover from their orgasm.

It takes a few seconds for Will to come back to himself, looking down at Hannibal’s ducked head and brushing his fingers through the man’s hair. “Are you alright?”

Hannibal nods weakly, saying nothing, and Will snorts, patting the top of his head lightly as he sits back, watching Hannibal raise his head to meet his eyes. His lips are damp and near bruised looking, hair wild and eyes wide. Will has no doubts he looks the same if not worse.

A grin tugs onto Will’s lips, awkward and crooked as he huffs a laugh, a small smile pulls Hannibal’s lips in return. They sit, grinning like they always seem to do, Hannibal’s legs undoubtedly numb under Will’s weight and Hannibal now knowing Will’s greatest secret and ailment.

“I don’t think any of my underwear will fit you.” Will mutters, glancing down at Hannibal’s pants and seeing the damp spot that rivaled his. “Or pants.”

“And sleep bottoms?” Hannibal asked lazily, eyes dancing. And Will full-out laughs

“Paparazzi would love to see you leaving my apartment in a pair of flannel sleep pants, no underwear, and a starwars t-shirt.”

“You have a starwars t-shirt?” Hannibal asks, eyebrows raised. Will snorts and hits him gently on the shoulder, muttering ‘shut up’ without any actual aggression. "Why ever would i need a new shirt." "Because there is no way i'm not keeping this one." Will admits without batting a lash, grinning devilishly at Hannibal's somewhat surprised look.

“Besides,” Will sighs as he slides off the man’s lap to stretch admirably, Hannibal watching the muscle in his abdomen flick and curl under his skin before letting his eyes glide up to Will’s, who dance almost mischievously. “You’ll need something to wear.”

“Oh?” Hannibal asks, leaning forward with a false interest, brows raised profoundly high as his head cocked to the side. Will decided he liked the look of Hannibal from above.

“I intend to take a bath, enjoy a can of lukewarm beans, and go to bed, and I don’t intend on doing it alone.”

The beer bottles are left forgotten in the livingroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'bout to do a movie marathon from 11pm to 6am at my local movie theater lmao imma die
> 
> So SURPRISE, some of you had suspected Will had a prosthetic and YES you were right. He's gonna end up talking about how he lost it later, as well as his past of PTSD. Also, just a hint, Beverly is going to meet Hannibal soon. Thanks for reading.


	7. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepy morning spent together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a chapter sooner then i expected too. Honestly, i have no idea what's going on right now, but i do know what the problem and endgame of the fic will be. i'll get there eventually.
> 
> UBETA'D

Will hadn’t felt this contented since he was a child; during the early mornings when the dew was heavy and crickets cried, wandering out to the muck of the lakebed beside the crumbling dock, toes sinking into the mess as he hunted down fat little frogs, never really successful but always proud when he did. Those days were nearly two decades and a half away.

But waking up to Hannibal Lecter returned that feeling from so long ago.

The man had stayed the night as Will had determined. They did, in fact, take the world’s most bashful bath together, the large corner tub giving them plenty space, but still Will teased Hannibal for his knees sticking up out of the water, to which the other man had snipped that he was only a few inches taller than Graham.

The wine had been cheap, their voices muffled and tired, and they’d collapsed into bed around midnight, but only after Will had to stop and remove his prosthetic for the night, something Hannibal watched with thinly veiled interest.

Even Will would admit the design was strange, starting just above the knee with lots of bars, brackets, and subtle details that made it entirely unique. He had adamantly refused to stay with the ‘realistic’ look, the fake skin tone and proper shaping. He hadn’t wanted to get a false sense of realism from it, and with little experience in the whole amputee field while also struggling with PTSD, he’d being making a lot of his decisions at the time on a whim.

It was a simple design, not much calf shaping but a lot of hard metals in silver metallic and electric blue. The creator, a metal smith with tattoos and bright eyes, had explained that while it was effective for daily use and could hold Will’s weight, he had still wanted it to have a touch of liveliness.

This was the same metal smith that had given Will the information about the therapy group for ‘amputee and disabled soldiers’ that his twin sister was in. With his therapists prompting, Will had begrudgingly gone, something he was forever grateful for seeing as it lead him to the very metal smith’s twin sister and his closest friend, Beverly Katz.

Will had explained all this to Hannibal drowsily last night after he’d fallen back into bed, Hannibal propped on his side and watching Will, the moon illuminating his figure as he stroked Will’s hair gently.

And now they lay together, Hannibal asleep beside Will, mouth slightly open and hair amuck over his forehead. Resisting the temptation to snort, Will instead brushes the greying hair from the man’s face, humming with interest at the realization this was the first time he’d really gotten to observe the other man without those dark, heated eyes on him.

His face was lined, giving him the impression of age, but somehow it was warmer at the moment, almost innocent looking. Will runs his fingers across thin eyebrows and his regal nose to the highly arched cheekbones. Admittedly, Hannibal was a very particular looking person, while it could be debated for hours whether he fell under the categories of ‘handsome’ or ‘sexy’ and whatever else, there was no doubt there was something extremely singular and defined about his features that made him incapable of being declared unattractive.

Will traced this thumb delicately across Hannibal fuller bottom lip, skin slightly dry and soft under his touch. It was hard to believe the man lying in bed beside him had once swam so fast he’d won gold medals, or contorted his body in the delicate maneuvers of figure skating. He looked like a teacher, as embarrassing as it was to think, someone with a kind smile and stern eyes that could recite history and emotionally balance lost kids.

He looked ready, even in this sleeping state, Hannibal seemed like type to take everything with a grain of salt, take his time on his every action, from actually sitting and enjoying a coffee to cleaning a kitchen to pristine. Every thought he has must be one of confidence, or self-understanding.

And yet, it seems like those who seem to be perfect have some of the biggest skeleton collections in their closets. His days of studying, training, sleep, repeat must’ve been hard, insufferable even, especially as a teen with the raging hormones of everyday life. Will snorts at the memory of himself as a teen, either reading a book while smoking a joint or doing something that made his cheeks tint pink even a decade later.

Will only then realized Hannibal is now watching him, eyes having flicked open minutes ago while he was lost in thought. “Good morning,” Will said with a smile while extracting his hand.

Hannibal caught it by the wrist, dragging it back up to him mouth to press a kiss to the knuckles. “Good morning to you as well, Will.”

Will scoffs shaking his head and narrowing his eyes at Hannibal’s small smile. “You sound way to wakeful.”

“I admitted enjoying your exploration.” Hannibal mutters in return cheekily, earning a light slap on the shoulder from Will, who is now grinning entirely.

“I’ll make coffee.” Will says, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. “I’d suggest getting a shower in while you can.”

At Hannibal’s raised brows, Will elaborates, “I used to sleep in my bathtub a lot when I came back from my missions. It was hard and uncomfortable, so it was what I was used to. When I was assigned Winston, he figured it was normal to do that so even once I stopped doing it, doesn’t really matter to him if it’s attached to a tub or not, so during the day he, well,” Will trailed off, and Hannibal actually laughed.

“So your dog will try to sleep in the bathtub. Got it.” Hannibal replies, clearly amused as he rolls up off the mattress and onto his feet, only in a pair of borrowed shorts. Will whistles after him, earning a devious over the shoulder look and a slight hip swivel from Hannibal, making Will laugh loudly.

Coffee didn’t take long to set up, which wasn’t an issue seeing as he was quickly drawn away by the sound of his laptop chiming. One default, he walks over to the desk where it sat, pressing the answer button.

Beverly’s face showed up in screen, her usual smile in place. Instead of her bedroom or kitchen in the background, it’s a brightly life room with far too much chrome and white for any regular location.

“Are you at work?” he asks the same time she greets him cheerily, their voices overlapping. Beverly’s brows raise but she still answers. “Yeah. The building is mostly empty and we’re not doing anything right now, so.”

“We’re –” Will begins, but cannot finish before a loud “Hey, Graham.” Is heard off-screen, following by shuffling and the arrival of two other faces beside Beverly.

“Oh, you’re right, he isn’t that bad looking.” The older of the two says, a head for of grey hair and bright blue eyes stand our starkly in the hard lighting, the other one, who has a dark beard and thick brown hair snorts. “I’d debate it.”

“I take it you’re Price and Zeller.” Will sighs, giving Beverly a ‘we’ll discuss this later’ look, to which he replied to with a smirk.

“Oh, so you’ve talked about us after all.” Price questions, looking over at Beverly who rolls her eyes in mock irritation.

“Will,” She says, instead turning her attention to him while Price and Zeller talk over her head. “How’s you-know-who doing?”

“Who is ‘you-know-who’?” Zeller questions immediately, pulling away from Jimmy to stare at Will. Beverly hadn’t been kidding when she said the two men bickered, and apparently no more kidding when she declared Zeller a gossip hound.

“Nobody.” Will snaps quickly, and Beverly grins mischievously.

Somewhere behind Will, the shower stops, and he holds Beverly’s gaze, refusing to turn and look at the bathroom door. As a distraction, he instead questions Price and Zeller. “How long have you guys worked here.”

“I was here first,” Jimmy says somewhat proudly. “Ten years next month. Zeller only for three though.”

“Yeah, and in that time Jack has decided he likes me better.” Zeller quips, and Jimmy gives him a sour look, opening his mouth to argue, but Will cuts him off before he can.

“Who is Jack again?”

“Crawford. You’ve met him before, remember? At that _Dangerous Minds_ or whatever it’s called museum. You call him ‘distasteful.” Beverly is the one to explain, and it jogs Will’s memory pretty quick.

“He’s worked the Buffalo Bill case didn’t he? Some agent got killed in the process.”

Beverly was about to respond when the bathroom door opened across the room, Hannibal in all his tanned glory coming out with only a towel around his waist. Will groaned immediately.

“Is that him?” Beverly exclaimed, painfully loud even through the gritty computer mic, drawing Hannibal’s attention, who didn’t even have the nerve to look embarrassed, instead looking over at Will’s painful red face with amusement.

“I apologize. You didn’t inform me we’d have company.” Hannibal quips, and Will wants to throw the entire damn laptop at the man. Although he should suppose himself lucky that Hannibal had found the towels and hadn’t come out naked. Will looks back at the screen, all eyes are locked onto his with varying expressions.

“Wait, is that Hannibal Lecter?” It’s Zeller speaking, eyes wide as dinner plates, and Beverly elbows him, grinning. Zeller’s eyes move from Will to Hannibal as if trying to figure out what he was seeing. “Like, _the_ Hannibal Lecter?”

“The one and only.” Beverly chirps, grinning like a proud mother at Will. “If you’d read TattleLife lately you’d known.”

Hannibal approaches beside Will, having taken the opportunity of distraction to get into a pair of old jogging pants Will had offered him to go home in seeing as his pants were, well, _dirty_. Right now he was really appreciating some of the things he’d brought for ‘just in case’.

“It is nice to meet you.” Hannibal says politely, leaning down to look at the screen, one of his large hands curled around Will’s shoulder for balance.

“Wow, oh wow,” Zeller stutters, face becoming slightly red. “It’s an honor – I mean, you were a huge thing to me and the other guys of my high school swim team. Like _big_ hero.”

“You were on your highs cool swim team?” Beverly snickers, Zeller gives her a defensive look. “Hey, we went to nationals twice.”

“You must be Beverly then,” Hannibal says, speaking directly to the woman on screen, and both Jimmy and Zeller look at her, obviously surprised he knows her name. Beverly doesn’t even waver under his intense gaze. “That I am.”

“I have heard you also served in the military. I want to thank you for all you have done for your country.”

Only then did Beverly blush, a slight grin wandering on to her face, and once again Will feels the pure adoration he was sure could only be felt around Hannibal.

“Why thank you. And I want to thank you for making Will happy,” She said bouncily, Will’s eyes snapping to her in a very ‘don’t you dare’ fashion. Ignoring him, she continued, “He has been a grumpy pain in the ass for the last two years I’ve known him, and in all that time I haven’t seen him this excited.”

“I’m getting coffee.” Will blurts out, pushing to stand only for Hannibal to gently push him back down. “I’ll get it, darling.” He mutters, kissing Will quickly on the top of the head, clearly aware of the man’s embarrassment.

“Nice to meet you Misses Katz.” Hannibal calls back as he leaves the room, and Beverly chants her farewells after him.

Silence falls in the room as Will is left alone with the three others on the screen, a blush burns his face. Finally, it’s jimmy that speaks up. “You’re fucking an international celebrity.”      

No,” Will says, shaking his head. “He’s fucking me.”

Will shuts the call down with an appealing click, the last thing he sees before getting up to have coffee with Hannibal is Beverly’s over-satisfied face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly Beverly. Sorry if anything seemed ooc, i don't know why i'm saying this now, especially since every character is changed for this, but whatever.


	8. Bacardi and Everclear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal end up getting pap'd, taking it as an excuse to stay in and get shitfaced together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge warning for alcohol abuse here guys I usually don't like writing drunk characters, especially drunk HANNIBAL characters, because it doesn't seem like them, but in this AU it works so we ended up here.
> 
> VERY UNBETA'D.

Will supposes there could be a lot _sexier_ of a reason why he and Hannibal were hunched over, gasping for air as if they were dying. Truth be told, Will couldn’t find one. While walking out on the _La Promenade des Gouverneurs_ \- a sun-bleached boardwalk beside the water and a beautiful view up towards the city, although the walk had left them with blisters and dry mouth – he and Hannibal had been pap’d.

Then again, _‘pap’d’_ could be seen as an understatement, seeing as they were literally bombarded with photographers and reporters, who’d apparently had a tip off of their location for the first time since they’d been seen eating lunch together at Le Petite.

Hannibal seemed to have a six sense for it, he and Will having been heading towards a Starbucks when he suddenly wheeled around, held Will’s hand tight and started rushing him along. It didn’t take long from them to descent like pigeons, and Will had instinctively put up and arm as Hannibal dragged him along.

Sure, Hannibal had won World’s Sexiest Man a few times, and _yes_ he had countless gold metals and a profitable well-known charity, and was a celebrity personality, but Will hadn’t expected _this_. By the time they’d scored a cab, Will was left sweating heavier than he had going down over two hundred steps.

“Does that happen often?” Will had asked immediately after his lungs stopped screaming at him, wiping sweat from his eyes are he looked over at Hannibal who was doing the same, his hair having fallen from the small bun he’d put to pull his bangs from his face, the rest having fallen limping against the back of his neck.

“I suppose it does.” He answered truthfully, looking somewhat sheepish as he did. Will realizes Hannibal expects and outburst – of anger or vanity, Will can’t be sure – but it is something he desires to squash instantly. Will gives a shaky nod, reaching over to grasp Hannibal’s hand. “Alright,” He says on a heavy exhale with a slightly erratic nod. “I can adapt.”

Hannibal stares at him with such an undeniable softness that Will refuses to meet, pretending, instead, that he did not see it.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re taking me to dinner?”

Saturday night, and Will’s time in Quebec is running thin. It goes unmentioned between the two, but it is present and burning. Will wishes he’d met Hannibal sooner.

They’re standing in the man’s home now, the upper floor of a cream colored building with rusty orange colored shutters and roofing, windows immaculate and flowerboxes overflowing. Will was quite taken with the banana yellow door.

Inside was just as elegant, up a flight of stairs and through the door into Hannibal’s home, the main room has sparse white leather furniture and potted plants, to the right was the kitchen, lifted a foot higher from the living area’s floor, making it a short step into the space. Two parallel marble counters and white, glass front counters, the portable rolling butchers blood standing starkly with its dark color. Off the raised area if a short, wide hallway with two bedrooms and an incredibly spacious bathroom.

With beach wood hardwood and brassy colored tiling, the rooms were welcoming, the stark cream walls had delicate watercolors of flowers hanging on them, and glass jars of seashells and shiny pebbles are places about. The glass coffee table’s whicker white legs as shining as the antique ceiling fan above.

It’s all very Hannibal, and Will had whistled gently upon entering, much like Hannibal had when he first stepped foot into Will’s home, only this time when he followed Will in the door, he wasted no time wrapping his arms around the shorter man and pressing his lips to his neck.

Mumbling something unintelligible, Will had leaned back into the man, enjoying the nips and pricks of Hannibal’s teeth against his skin.

It hadn’t lasted of course, Will’s stomach rumbling causing Hannibal to laugh in Will’s ear, the man blushing and mumbling something about inconvenience.

And so now Will stands, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Hannibal, who grins at him secretively. Will’s eyes only narrow further at the innocent expression. “You’re not going to steal my kidney are you?”

Hannibal scoffed, giving Will a look of incredibility and humor. Will tosses his hands up defensively, “Hey, all this romanticizing could’ve been you playing me.”

“I can assure you Will, all this romanticizing has a reason.” Hannibal murmurs, head tilted in a very coy yet sly matter. Will had almost feel the man’s gaze roam his body, and the blush that rises in his cheeks was nothing he could’ve fought off.

“Fine.” Will mutters, blushing deeply now. “Nothing fancy though, I only have regular clothes.”

In fact, if Will had to be honest, imagining Hannibal in a suit itself was somewhat difficult – he was sure he must’ve seen a picture of him in one at some point in his life, but the idea of it was… admittedly strange. Would it be fitted or lose? Plain black or colored, even patterned maybe? Would he wear a tie or a bowtie, or maybe neither, leaving his collar open as he always does around Will?

“I can agree to those terms on the basis you can borrow slacks from me and wear the button down you are wearing now.” Hannibal immediately responds, and Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll need a belt.”

At Hannibal’s pointed look that crawls from Will’s eyes to his hips, Will shirts, feeling the weird need to cover his body from the man’s eying. “Stop that.” He snips. “My waist is thinner than yours.”

“I am sure I have one somewhere.” Hannibal sighs, heading towards the bedroom on the left of the hallway. “There is beer in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Will does just that, looking into the half empty fridge and locating the bottles pretty quickly. Opening two using the bottle opener magnet from the fridge, Will takes half of his down relatively quickly, already bracing him for whatever social interaction he might have to face, palms already beginning to sweat.

He can remember when he came back to America, the crowded airport and rejoining family, then that night his empty home. The next day, the crowded streets, then again a cold bed. The process was maddening, anxiety welling at the sight of crowds, of laughter and pairings, the memory of his first dinner out with Jack and the team, only two weeks after returning, where he’s ended up having an episode in the bathroom.

“Hannibal.” He calls suddenly, voice wavering slightly, and he can hear the shuffling from the separate room stop. The sound of Hannibal’s light footsteps is next, and the man comes around the corner to a nearly trembling Will, expression schooled and blank. “Will?”

He approaches immediately, but Will raises a palm to the man’s chest before he can get to close, Will’s own hear ducked. “Do you think we could just…?”

Hannibal understands. Of course he would. One of his large hands places itself onto Will’s elbow as he hums back, “Of course.”

Will remembered Hannibal telling him if he ever felt uncomfortable to tell him, and yet now that Will has, he feels embarrassed, near weak. He nods either way, and let’s Hannibal propel them towards tone of the leather sofas, and upon Will collapsing into it, he learned the thing was much more overused than it seemed.

Hannibal was beside him, giving Will the space he’d expected the man would need. Quite the contrary, Will shuffled into the man’s side, swinging his legs up onto the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Hannibal said in that forever placating, calm voice. “I am sure we will find a way to amuse ourselves here.”

Silence falls, and for some reason a normally considered innuendo falls flat and simple. They stay like this for a while before Will sighs heavily. “Want to get hammered?”

“ _Desperately_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Let’s play 20 questions.”

“What?” Hannibal says, brows pressed down over his eyes and a comically confused grin on his face. Will sits cross legged on the floor in front of the couch, Hannibal sprawled awkwardly across a chair that had to be too small for his large, burly frame.

“Y’know,” Will laughs, “You take turns asking each other questions, nothing is too personal. Something like that.”

Between them, the glass top of the coffee table is scattered with bottles of beer, Jaeger, and various glasses. Hannibal is nursing a tumbler of some kind of orange liqueur, while Will wields a bottle of some pink wine that tastes like roses. Or maybe that’s just his alcohol burnt tongue.

“Okay, we could do that.” Hannibal says, and to Will it’s somehow hilarious, making his snort loudly into his bottle before taking another mouthful. They were both pitifully drunk and had been for hours. “Who goes first?” Hannibal asks, successful in his attempt to sound somewhat serious.

“Who’s oldest?” Will says, choking on laughter, and Hannibal joins him, head tilted back on the side of the chair, shoulders shaking.

“Okay, okay,” Will heaves, calming himself. “Sober up a bit, this is gonna be _super_ serious.” Will sits straight, placing his hands into his lap, staring at Hannibal intensely for a second before breaking down into giggles again.

“First question,” Hannibal announces, waving one arm with dramatic vigor as if displaying the words in the air. “Who was your first kiss.”

“Low hanging fruit, Doctor Lecter.” Will teases, but ponders it none the less. “I think it was…” he points a finger snapping as he tries to recall the memory as vividly as he can. “A girl in sixth grade. Her name was Danielle.... and she had brown hair. Okay, your turn.”

Hannibal barely has to think, a smirk on his face as he says, “Luther Hemmings, first year of high school, in the woods behind the school,” When Will raises his eyebrows at the detail, Hannibal’s smirk turns into a full-on grin as he shrugs innocently, “First blow job too.”

“Shut up.” Will exclaims, eyes wide, grabbing the closest pillow and throwing it at the man, who raised his drink about his head so as not to spill, attempting and failing to catch the pillow with his other hand.

“Not lying.” Hannibal says, grinning. “I think I won that round.”

“It’s not a competition.” Will says with a scoff, and Hannibal waves his hand in dismissal while he remarks, “Anything is a competition if you make it one.”

“Fine.” Will pouts. “let’s make it a drinking game then.”

Hannibal snaps his fingers, gesturing for Will to help him clear the table of bottles, instead moving them to the kitchen. As Will takes a seat, interested in what Hannibal was planning as he watched the man dash off. There was clinking of glass from the bedroom and the man comes back with a pair of shot glasses and two bottles.

“What is that.” Will says, narrowing his eyes.

“This is Bacardi,” Hannibal explains, holding up the darker of the two bottles as he sets the glasses on the center of the table. “And _this_ is Everclear.”

Will’s eyes widen at the name. “Isn’t that –”

“Illegal in thirteen states of the U.S?” Hannibal replies, a devilish grin appearing upon his face. “It is.”

“We’re going to get alcohol poisoning.” Will says with a bark of uncaring laughter. Maybe if he wasn’t entirely hammered, or just had a lot more preservation skills, Will would immediately turn tail and run, but with Hannibal’s flashy grin and their ability to handle their drink surprisingly well, as well as the promise of stories, he wasn’t going to miss this for the world.

“I’ll get snacks.” Will chirps, nearly stumbling as he stood, Hannibal snorting at his escapade. Once up into the kitchen and searching the cupboards, he manages to local some cookies, Trisket crackers, corn chips, dip, and half a bag of pretzels.

Dumping his haul on the table, Will settles on the opposite end from Hannibal, leaning back against the couch, watching as the other man fills on shot glass with Bacardi and the other with Everclear. “So what we’re going to do,” Hannibal murmurs, finally looking back at Will while he screws the bottle caps back onto their original spots. “Is whoever has the better story, gets the Bacardi, the other gets the Everclear.”

“Oo,” Will cringes, a grin on his face. “You’re on.”

Seeing as it was his turn, Will contemplates his wine bottle, tapping his thumb against the rim. “Alright,” he hums. “What made you start swimming and skating?”

“Ah,” Hannibal says, shaking his head as he still sips at his liqueur. “How to make this story short. Well the men in my family all had their sport – never something dirty or rugged of course -  kick boxing, I think, was the closest to that. Anyway, the last four generations of men in my family, from uncles to cousins, all fenced. I just wanted my own thing.” Hannibal shrugs then. “My home had a shallow pool in the basement, it was a very dark, cold room. I was scared of it for a longest time, but swimming in the lake would only do so much. That is where it began. As for skating, well my mother taught me that.”

Will whistled, impressed. “I think you’d be good at any sport. Is that a strange thing to say?”

“No. But now it’s your turn; Why did you join the military.”

“I’ve already told you this.” Will snorts. “Tilda’s brother was in the military, I was an orphan, shit mental state. What better way out then to go in action.”

“you’re never told me that part before.” Hannibal mutters, frowning at Will, who waved his hand in an awkwardly, clearly drunk action.

 “Mm. Didn’t matter. I was pretty depressed but didn’t have the balls to kill myself.” He laughs sudden. “All I did was loose a leg and get a shit on of PTSD. But whatever. Yours was better.”

Hannibal once again gives Will that smug grin, and they tap their shots together before shooting back. Will immediately slams the glass down after swallowing what had to be motor acid only somehow _worse_. He can’t even speak as his throat feels like it’s blistering, only capable of hacking coughs and giving Hannibal the finger all the while as the man laughed.

“You’re next.” Will manages to rasp eventually after downing several mouthfuls of the rosey tasting wine. “Ask your question.”

“Who was your longest relationship?”

“Three years of highschool. Her name was Molly. I was still being a fuck up at the time, but she was an honor student. I still wonder if she was dared to ask me out and realized she was kinda into me and went with. She always told me she thought I was cute.”

“What ended it?” Hannibal questions with a frown.

“Nah-ah.” Will says, wagging a finger at the other man. “You asked what my longest relationship was.”

“Okay, what was your longest relationship and what ended it.”

“Can’t change it now.” Will crowed, grinning smugly at Hannibal, who scoffed and waved him off. “Your turn Lecter.”

“Mine was a year,” Will immediately laughs, and Hannibal makes and noise in the back of his throat for Will to shush as he continues. “It was with a man named Frederick.”

“Sounds like a dick.” Will grumbles.

“He _was_ ; now would you stop interrupting.” Hannibal snips without any real venom, and Will raises his hands to shoulder height in defeat. “Anyway, he was a psychiatrist –”

Will blows a raspberry, and its Hannibal’s turn to throw a pillow, to which Will finally admits defeat, “Alright, alright. Last time.”

“ _Anyway_ , one of my charity partners introduced us. I don’t know why I dated him – self-absorbed, vane, not even good at his job, thinking himself cultured with expensive tastes and misuse of a large vocabulary. He was a fickle little man and every day that I woke up beside him was another day of loathing and exhaustion. It didn’t end well.”

“I think we have to hear the endings to know whose is the better story.”

“You first.” Hannibal says without concern, as if he expects his to be winner once again. He had another thing coming.

“I failed terribly at monogamy while I was high as shit, which I know is a poor excuse, but still, I can’t fix the past. Didn’t really care who I was banging either. That was till she found out the _who_ was her own brother. For the entire of the last year of our relationship.”

Hannibal actually gaped at what Will had just dropped. With an exaggerated grimace and a half shrug, Will savagely dipped a corn chip into some salsa Hannibal had opened a few minutes ago.

“Well,” Hannibal sighs, rolling his shoulders. “Frederick was stealing from my charity. It was progressively over time. He was also taking my patients. Then when we broke up, he announced to the world I was a serial cheater and abuser. There was a media debate over the entire thing, and a lot of sides were taken seeing as he was already prestige as a celebrity psychiatrist. People didn’t know who to believe. I haven’t dated anyone since.”

Silence follows the end of their stories. The newfound knowledge of one another settling into minds that wouldn’t remember the next day.

“Damn.” Will mutters finally. “I think we both have pretty shitty stories. Skip the shots this round?”

At Hannibal nod, they continued, questions becoming much more light hearted, and both men got to see petty revenge on one-another as they were forced to take terrible shots of either the fiery Bacardi or Everclear – which Will had chosen to rename as ‘Devils Pisswater’.

They end up on the couch together at some point, sloppy and lazy boned, draped over one another as they continued their slurred interrogations, bothers of their accents thickening to the point of near incomprehension, but even then their motivation is not broken.

It’s around midnight when Will raises his near empty bottle of wine like a trophy, exclaiming, “’Ve got th’ winner; Have you ‘ver had sex ‘n public?”

Hannibal snorts loudly. “Do z’ forez’ count’?”

“Fuck yeh’ it does.” Will scoffs. He continues before Hannibal can even ask him in return. “In Louisiana all sex was public. An’ ‘n the military – _oh man_ – you better hope y’ both cum fast ‘nd soundlessly or n’body turns on a light or walks ‘n.”

“I’m evhusted.” Hannibal mutters against Wills ear before yawning loudly to punctuate his statement.

“Hol’ up buddy.” Will grumbles, unhoping himself from Hannibal to fetch them both glasses of water and what he hoped was Asprin to help the hangover they’d both have the next day. After drinking the water down with their medication, Hannibal manages to loop Will into a sloppy kiss that resorted itself to Will’s throwing himself atop the man, sucking on his tongue greedily and tasting nothing but alcohol.

This goes on until breathing becomes a problem, and, too tired to continue, they fall sideways across the couch, squashed up against each other.

“Ve’re going to regreet this temorrow.” Hannibal grumbles, and Will snorts, resisting the urge to comment how he sounds like Dracula. He’s sure he sounds like a hillybilly himself.

“Don’ worry Hanni. We’ll regret togetha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i'm Romanian and as far as i'm sure Lithuanian is pretty fucking close to that, so i figured their accent would be like mine. So lots of v's and z's. You're welcome.
> 
> I promise this fic will actually GO PLACES next chapter.


	9. Blueberry Almond Kale Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will takes some more time off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the world's laziest writer. Unbeta'd.

Will isn’t sure how it happens. He still technically had a few days left on his trip before he had to check out, but with a charming smile and a brush of a hand, Will sudden found himself out of his hotel and into Hannibal’s apartment in a blink of an eye.

With years of sick and vacation days built up, there wasn’t any complaints when Will called in another two weeks, especially since most of the people he worked with either avoided him or pitied him; either way, they mostly thought him insane or straight up stupid. The idea of them seeing him with Hannibal all over the news was enough to put a smirk on his face.

Hannibal had offered the guest room, but at Will’s raised eyebrows and dry expression, he’d flushed bright pink and grinned, acknowledging his room was an option.

His room was unsurprisingly like the rest of the house, same cream walls and beach wood style hardwood. The furniture was pale beiges, and the bedsheets a bright white. Will had set his stuff down in an unoccupied area, Hannibal standing back and watching as Will looked over the room.

On the bedside there was one photograph, and Will sat on the edge of the bed to appraise it, Hannibal shuffling over and collapsing down beside him.

After their recent drunken escapade – including the following morning of bickering over who would get the toilet and who would have to deal with bending over the kitchen sink – Will felt closer to Hannibal than ever, contact easier and information more open.

He takes advantage of that now, holding the picture for Hannibal to see. “Who is this?”

Hannibal sits up behind Will, one arm around his shoulders so Will relaxes back against him. “That,” he murmurs, raising his hand from where it rested on Will’s shoulder to point at one of the two women in the photo and then the other, “Is Alana Verger-Bloom, and that is Margot Verger-Bloom.”

“LV-B.” Will says, grinning at Hannibal. “These are your charity partners.”

“They are.” Hannibal says with a smile of his own. “At the time Alana’s psychiatric office had been provided volunteer therapists for the school, but none of them were particularly helpful, figuring the children lost causes like so many others did. Alana did not believe that though, and when I came in she immediately befriended me. Her wife,”

Hannibal gestures to Margot, who in the picture is standing beside Alana. While no physical contact his made, her expression towards the other woman is painfully soft and affectionate. “Was a local business woman and second heir to a dynasty who, when we took our stand for the school, immediately signed up to help. She was quite taken with Alana for a while before making her move, it was amusing to watch. I promise to introduce you one day.”

Will snorted. “Only if they want to be introduced.”

Hannibal, who’d now placed his chin on Will’s shoulder, frowned. “Why ever would they not want to be introduced. To be honest they had already expressed their interest in doing so.”

Will’s head turns at they, Hannibal raises his own head so as to meet Will’s almost confused expression. “So you’ve told them about me?”

“Of course. It is much like you and Miss Katz.”

Will wants to argue against this, that Hannibal shouldn’t be telling his friends so soon, but he is cornered by Hannibal’s point against Beverly, who’d known about this since the start. Closing his mouth, Will’s makes a ‘hmp’ing noise instead. Sensing his defeat, Hannibal chuckles and presses a kiss against the shell of Will’s ear.

Quite content in being held, Will places the picture back in its original spot and lets his weight fall against Hannibal, who wraps both arms around Will to hug him closer.

Although Will is ready to let conversation die in the spirit of a nap, Hannibal is not, after a few minutes of silence he mutters, “May I ask your something?”

“Shoot.” Will says on a sigh, readjusting the position of his back.

“Where is it you live in the states?”

“Maryland.” Will answers, having dreaded this question for decades. “Wolftrap to be precise. How about you?”

A moment of knots in his stomach is nearly enough to let his anxiety swallow him whole – what if Hannibal doesn’t live close? What if this was just the summer and then nothing? Could he even let go of the other man at this point. It’s not like he was in love after all.

“Maryland.” Hannibal purrs, fingers stroking down Will’s chest. He can feel Hannibal’s smile against his ear. “ _Baltimore_ , to be precise.”

Will laughs out loud, it’s near hysterical and full of relief. “Oh course,” he snorts, shaking his head. “Because that’s just the way things work in life.”

“Perhaps fate is determine for us to be together.”

Will hums. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“I do.” Hannibal responds with a laugh. “Especially now that it has given me you. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.” Will grumbles, but blushes none the less. He swats at Hannibal over his shoulder, misses, and settles against the man once again. “So will you leave when I do, or are you intending to stay the summer here.”

He’s nervous, and Will is not afraid to admit that. Unable to scale the seriousness of his relationship with Hannibal, he doesn’t want to appear clingy nor entirely detached. Hannibal sighs behind him, something that reverberates in the man’s ribcage under Will’s back. It’s calming in it’s own way.

“I’m afraid I have business in the upcoming weeks. I likely Will not be back in America until three or four weeks after you.”

“Oh no,” Will gasps with fake horror, placing a hand upon his chest. “How will I survive being apart from you so long?”

“I am sure I can call you.” Hannibal says dryly while still clearly amused by Will’s little show. “Besides, I will make our last night together as magnificent of a night as possible to sustain you for those long weeks.”

“Unless it involves you carrying me like a princess through the door I doubt it’d be able to.” Will says sarcastically, and its Hannibal’s turn to huff. “If what you desire the most is for me to blow out my back I will gladly do so.”

“Oh my god.” Will snorts, shaking with laughter. Hannibal is as well, and in this moment of soft reality, Will feels that anything is possible. That _they_ are possible.

If only he’d known at the time the feeling wouldn’t last.

 

* * *

 

 

With Hannibal out on a meeting with possible investors, Will was given free run of his day, starting with a two hour phone conversation with Beverly, who was mixed between yelling at Will for staying away so long and simultaneously wanting to know every detail of his life with Hannibal thus far.

“We’re good together Beverly.” He’d grumbled, exasperated at her constant questioning.

“Yes, I get that,” She’d sighed, voice somewhat grainy over the speakerphone as Will made the bed from the previous night. “But is it ‘in the now’ good, or ‘marry me’ good.”

“Beverly.” He exclaims, clearly irritated, but she does not back down. “Look, Will, relationships end two ways, you either break up, or you don’t. Sometimes you can tell year what is what.”

“And this time, I can’t tell you.” Will is cut off by her scoff, but continues with a vengeance, “Honestly, Beverly, I can’t. We haven’t even fought yet.”

She lets out a loud groan, followed immediately by, “That’s not _good_ , Will.”

“I _know_ , Beverly.” He snarks back as he fluffs a pillow with unnecessary vigor.        

                    “Are you at least having sex?” Beverly asks, her tone almost desperate at this point, and Will makes a face at the direction of his phone.

“Yeah.” It’s weak, and he knows she heard it by the way a long, dead silence followed. “Okay fine,” Will snaps, straightening a bed corner aggressively. “Once. We did it once. On a chair.”

“Please tell me you actually took clothes off like adults.”

Will doesn’t respond, and a noise like a muffled scream emits from the phone. “I’m going to come down there and whip you both into shape. You’re spending time together, talking about your feelings and your pasts, but jesus you and I do that.”

“Hey, he and I cuddle and sleep in the same bed, that’s a couple activity.” Will can’t even believe he’s defending his relationship with Hannibal like this, arguing with Beverly of all people.

“Yeah, Will, you also moved into his apartment, so what does that say about both of you?”

“I didn’t move in.” He scoffs. “I’m staying here before I head back.”

“Right, and what happens _when_ you head back?”

“Hey stays in Quebec. He has business here.”

“What, so you’re gonna long-distance it?”

“I don’t see why not.” Will snips, purposely leaving out the part about Hannibal coming to America a few weeks after to be with him.

Beverly groans again, and Will sighs loudly enough for her to hear, picking his phone up from where he abandoned it on the bedside. “Listen, Beverly. This is my relationship, and my business.”

“I know,” She says, sounding defeated. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, after Molly and then Matthew-“

“Who are not a part of this.” Will finished for her. Silence follows, and Will rubs his eyes. “Listen, Bev, I know you’re worried, but I’m happy, okay? I like Hannibal. He’s good to me. And you’ll like him too when you meet him.”

“I’m – hold on. I’m meeting him?”

Will grins, “I may had held back the fact after a few weeks from my return he will also be coming back to America. Happens he lives two hours from me.”

“Shut up.” She choked, and Will laughs. “Damn, that’s fate.” She murmurs, and Will pulls a face.

“Why do I keep hearing that.” Will grumbles, but Beverly doesn’t let him sulk long, her tone suddenly peppier and pointedly dry. “Oh, speaking of hearing stuff, you could not believe the rumors about you around Quantico.”

“I knew it.” Will says smugly, and Beverly’s “I know right.” Is followed by many different names and the things she’d heard. Apparently since she was known as Graham’s friends, the ‘subtle’ questions were endless.

“The logistics TA asked me yesterday if you’d always been gay or if it was a new thing. Apparently my face said enough and he’d stumbled along something about Hannibal Lecter being so cute that even he’d turn for him.”

“You’re joking.” Will jokes, and at Beverly’s adamant refusal, he laughs loudly, head thrown back in utter delight. “This is the best thing since my last breakdown. I’ll never hear the end of their gossiping.”

“Mm. Wait till the students start to ask you for his autograph. Hey,” she says, conversation obviously turning a corner. “Does this mean paparazzi will start following you around everywhere?”

“I – I don’t actually know.” Will contemplates, a frown pressed in features as he pauses in his path to the kitchen. He’d only been pap’d twice, both times with Hannibal, but wasn’t it reasonable to think that the more he and Hannibal’s relationship grew, the more likely it’d be. “I guess so.”

“That’s going to make things significantly harder.” Beverly mutters, likely in referral to his regular attendance to therapy, or even his teaching. Instead, she takes him by surprise when she continues, “Jack Crawford, the new unit chief, you had dinner with us one. Met at the gallery.”

“Yes, I know who that is.”

“Yes, well, he’s heard about you consultation with Rosa Mulane’s unit last year, and wants to take you on as a part time consultant.”

“For serial killers.” Will deadpans, already having flashbacks to the mental catastrophe of the last unit consultation he’d done. Chief Mulane had been so caught up on catching her serial rapist that she didn’t see Will unravelling until he’d had a fit at a crime scene. Sure, he’d caught the guy, but he’d been left battered from the whole affair.

“You know the answer Beverly.” Will says stiffly, and Beverly huffs loudly. “You know _I_ know that Graham, but Jack doesn’t, and I don’t think he’ll take ‘no’ and as an answer.”

“He’s going to have to. I can’t go back to that shit again. I don’t want to be in the line of fire anymore.”

His tone wavered ever so slightly, enough that both he and Beverly caught it, and it made Will clench his jaw. “I know, Will.” She says softly. “I don’t want that either. Anyways, my lunch break is up, so I’ve got to check out now Graham. Talk later.”

“Bye Bev.” Will sighs as he hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket, taking a moment to heave a sigh, swaying slightly on his feet before continuing his path to the kitchen. He needed a beer.

 

* * *

 

 

“Have you ever danced?”

“What do you mean by ‘dance’.” Will responds, taking a mouthful of orange juice, eying Hannibal over the counter where they were sat eating their supper, tonight a blueberry almond kale salad with pan fried salmon. “The ‘I’m young and this has a good beat’ kind or the ‘christmas at grannie’s’ kind?”

Hannibal snorts lightly at Will’s reference system. “Either one I suppose, but I believe I meant the second of the two.”

“yes.” Will answers without any real interest, and despite looking down at his meal, he sees Hannibal raise his head to stare as if surprised by the fact. After another two bites of food without Hannibal relenting, Will sighs and meets his eyes.

“I grew up in Louisiana, it was basically a sin if I didn’t know how to do the foxtrot at the very least.”

Hannibal grins, but is clearly trying to suppress it. He seems nervous now that Will paid attention, making him frown. “What is it?”

Hannibal sets his fork down, hands tucked into his lap as he opens his mouth, looking as if he cannot word what it is exactly he wants to say. “Just ask already.” Will laughs, taking another forkful of salmon. “Rip the bandaid off.”

“I have a gala event next month. In Baltimore, or course. But I admit I had mostly forgotten it until the investors brought it up today. I was hoping you would attend with me.”

“Oh.” Will murmurs, a frown on his face as he sets down his fork, putting his hands down on his thighs.

“Yes. Oh.” Hannibal replies, shoulders sagged slightly in relief of spilling the information that was far too long held in his opinion. Will sighs, rubbing his face. “I – I guess I could. I’d have to see what the date was and find some kind of appropriate clothing and –”

Hannibal reaches over and takes one of Will’s hands in his own, Will’s eyes darting up to his. Deflating slightly, Will nods roughly. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything.”

“I am happy enough that you will think on it.” Hannibal replies with an encouraging smile, ever the understanding one. Will squeezes Hannibal hand with a small smile of his own in place before they return to their meals.

“you know,” Will hums suddenly while reaching for his glass again. “I took belly dancing classes once.”

Across from him, Hannibal chokes on an almond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beverly is so important to me tbh. Anyway, more garbage up within a week or so.


	10. Margaritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowjob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is insanely short and is an apology for taking 50+ years to update.

Unsurprisingly time passes quickly.

                Winston makes his home on Hannibal’s couch, and Will in the actual place itself, small signs of his existence cropping up here and there. From the bag of shredded coconut in the panty to the on, single sock that seems to be on the bedroom floor at all times, the shared apartment becomes painfully normal for both men in it.

                But time catches up, and Will finds himself face-down on Hannibal’s bed after a day of packing. He would be leaving the next day, and Hannibal was adamant that his night before be as comfortable as possible.

“Are you worried I’d forget you?” Will had teased when Hannibal came into the room and perched himself onto the bed cross legged, waiting for Will to prop himself up slightly before handing over of the minty green margarita’s he’d just made them. Like the other things Hannibal had made, it was positively wonderful.

“Possibly.” Hannibal replied with a sly smile. “Although I doubt you will find any better.”

“That’s some self-confidence you got there.” Will grinned, and Hannibal laughed aloud, short and prominent. “Nothing you did not know already.”

“True.” Will hummed with his lips pursed around the lemon-salted rim of his glass, the tingle it left on his slightly chapped lips somewhat refreshing. “But _you_ could find better.”

Hannibal scoffs, and the genuine disbelief behind it is nearly surprising to Will, who scrunched his brows up as he looks at Hannibal, who only after catching his lover’s eyes realizes he’s serious.

“You believe I could find myself better than you?” Hannibal sounds near incredulous as if the idea was unheard of. Will snorts, giving Hannibal a look that says he thought it was obvious. “Of course you could. I’m no model or actor or award winner. I’m just a guy with a missing leg and a bad attitude.”

“I do not know what to say to this.” Responds the other, and he honestly expresses exactly that upon his face. Remaining unexpressive, Will shrugs. “Then don’t say anything, because it’s true.”

“Yes, it is.” Hannibal agrees suddenly, and the change of tune is enough for Will to raise his brows. “but I do not want to. A celebrity lifestyle for two would mean less communication, more posterity, and your life out in the open. Will Graham, you may not be royalty, but to me you are exactly what I need. What I want.”

Will stares for a few minutes, unsure whether or not to take it as a compliment. He makes his decision in setting aside his glass on the night table and sitting up. “I’m going to give you a blowjob.”

“Excuse me?” Hannibal says, head all but whipping around as he blinks at Will in confusion.

“Yep.” Will hums, shuffling across the bedspread so he was directly in front of the man, placing a hand on one of Hannibal’s broad shoulders and shoving him back against the bed.

“Will are you sure –” He can’t finish before Will is already unzipping the cargo shorts Hannibal is wearing and pulling both them and his underwear down in a few tugs, passively ignoring Hannibal’s words as he leans down and puts his mouth around Hannibal’s dick, hollowing his cheeks slightly as he sucks it to hardness.

All attempt to change Will’s mind vanishes as Hannibal let’s his head fall back against the pillows with a sharp exhale as Will licks along the underside of his cock, his hands on Hannibal’s hips as he did.

Will wasn’t surprise by the girth or length, in fact this wasn’t his first time seeing the man’s dick. They had taken several showers together, some of which ended in similar situations to this. Hannibal was slightly above average, but nothing Will couldn’t handle as he bobbed his head, taking more of the other man’s length into his mouth, feeling muscles flickering under his hands where they were laid against Hannibal’s skin, the pressure he put there resisting against any attempt Hannibal had to roll his hips upwards.

Above him, Hannibal let out a groan, covering his face with his hands as his heart beat a fierce beat in his ears, the unraveling he displayed utterly enjoyable to Will, who was becoming hard himself just from the noises Hannibal was emitting alone.

When a hand curls into Will’s flock of chocolatey hair, it’s his turn to moan, the vibration obviously felt by Hannibal who made some unintelligible noise above him. Taking it in tune, Will picks up the pace, hollowing his cheeks and allowing him to choke as he fells Hannibal hit the back of his throat, spit slicking his lips to a near unbearable point.

Pulling back slightly, Will takes a bit more focus on the head, his tongue riding down the slit and tracing the lines of the skin, one of his hands moving from its place on Hannibal’s hip to the back of his cock, rubbing the soft skin there with his drying hand, and that’s all it takes, with a great tremble and a grasping of Will’s hair that gives his head a spectacular yank, Hannibal is coming down Will’s throat and he’s taking it, swallowing as he does.

There is the usual moment of aftershock before Hannibal’s hand becomes gentle on Will’s scalp, and Will straightens, spit slicked down his lips and even his chin, the unruly curls atop his head wild from Hannibal’s grip. He quickly strips his shirt off, using it to wipe the shit from Hannibal’s shaft, making the man shiver slightly. He takes to take off his own pants and flop beside Hannibal, both of them naked atop the silky sheets.

“Would you like me too –” Hannibal begins rolling onto his side, to look down upon Will, who grins and shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good for now.”

He turns slightly, reaching over for his now defrosting margarita from the bedside, turning back to Hannibal as he drank down half in one go. Even once he rests the glass gently atop the mattress, fingers still curled around the stem, Hannibal watches with inane affection that makes Will somewhat bashful. “What?”

“You wonder why I will not find better. It is for this exact reason.”

“What?” Will laughs, grinning at Hannibal in belief this is a joke. “So you can lie naked in bed next to me, post coital, drinking margaritas?”

“Who else would be so interested in doing so then some man with one leg and a bad attitude. You have no desire to maintain image, nor to flaunt what you have done. You are reliable and relatable. It’s… refreshing.”

“Well,” Will chirps softly. “You’re a spot different from the experiences I’ve had before you. Either brutes or too emotional. It was a bore.”

“So I am unique.” Hannibal teases, picking his own drink from his night table, taking a drink while staring at Will over the rim. Will scoffs, “You know you are, you narcissist.”

“So that may have been an egoistic question, but I am genuinely curious about your past experiences. I apologize.”

“Don’t. I’m an enigma, of course you want to know.”

Hannibal snorts, eyes glittering as he traces a finger over Will’s chest, tracing between the pectorals and the light dusting of hair. “Now who is the narcissist.”

“Perhaps we both have tendencies.” Will says, raising his glass again. “A gift from those in the past, and how the failed relations eventually brought us together.”

“to them,” Hannibal says with a grin, clicking his glass against Will’s.

Their laughter follows suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These gay fuckers are falling in love and don't even care. Have fun at the celebrity wedding.

**Author's Note:**

> I deeply relate to depressed teenager checking out zucchini's.
> 
> Alright, so i'm not sure how long this is gonna be, but i have some awesome plot ideas. Also yes, Hannibal is a celebrity, and this completely turns Will's life upside-down. 
> 
> Anyway, kudos and comment if you enjoyed, forever avoid my work if you didn't.


End file.
